Summer Bay High
by I love music
Summary: COMPLETE STORY Strictly no dags, dropkicks or uglies, Hayley Smith decreed. It was to be the party of the year. Nobody could ever guess it would be so much more than that...Hayley/Will/Gypsy/Barry/Irene/Kim/Martha/Jack/Kane/Dani/Cassie/Noah/Kit
1. Chapter 1

_**MAIN CHARACTERS**_

**Hayley Smith**

**Will Smith**

**Noah Lawson**

**Kit Hunter**

**Kane Phillips**

**Dani Sutherland**

**Martha McKenzie**

**Cassie Turner**

**Jack Holden**

**Gypsy Nash**

**Kim Hyde**

_This story is a collaboration between myself and Skykat (back to the bay net) who's idea it was. Where appropriate chapters have been credited_

**Chapter 1**

_written by Skykat_

_edited by I love music_

"No way am I going."

Kit Hunter set her lips stubbornly in a thin line and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest.

"Oh come on Kit, don't be like that. It'll be fun."

"I'm not being like anything. You can't honestly expect me to go to your ex-girlfriend's party when you know full well she hates my guts." Kit glared at Noah, deliberately trying to ignore the pleading look he was giving her.

"It's not just Hayley's party though, Kit, and she's not the only person who lives there. It's Will's party too and he specifically asked for you to be there. Besides I want you to come." Noah's eyes were watching her expectantly and as Kit found her eyes drawn to his she nearly melted. But not quite.

"You might want me there but you'll probably spend all night with the lads and I'll have nobody to talk to." Kit was determined to stand firm on this. It was no secret that Hayley bitterly regretted her break-up with Noah and was determined to get him back at any cost.

Kit was sure it would only be a matter of time before he decided he'd rather be with the perfect, beautiful, golden-girl Hayley Smith rather than frumpy, plain old Kit Hunter. Hayley was queen bee at Summer Bay High, the prettiest, most popular girl at school, leader of the in-crowd, and she and her followers gave anyone they disliked a really hard time. And Hayley really disliked Kit.

Even though Hayley and Noah had been over for months before he had got together with Kit, Hayley still seemed to hold her personally responsible for the break-up and made her a life a misery, constantly bringing up Kit's ex-alcohol addiction. Didn't matter that Noah too had once had a drink problem. Hayley conveniently chose to forget all about that and the fact that Kit and Noah had even got to know each other through the same school counselling sessions. Surely even laid back Noah could understand why Kit didn't want to be in the same district as Hayley, let alone attend her party?

Apparently not because he was fixing her with that look again, the look that made her turn into a puddle of Kit Hunter slush and jump through hoops to do his bidding. Well, okay. Fine. If he wanted to play with fire, he got his wish. Don't hold Kit Hunter responsible for Kit Hunter's actions though. She could be just as vindictive as Hayley Smith if she really put her mind to it.

"I promise I won't stay with the lads all night and besides you won't be alone, I happen to know at least one girl you like is going," Noah told her and Kit looked at him curiously. "Gypsy," he supplied.

"_Gypsy?"_ Kit was astonished. "Gypsy's invited? To Will and Hayley's party? Will who's heart she broke and Hayley who hates her guts?"

"Well, not exactly invited. But Kim is sort of seeing Gypsy right now so he's bringing her along," Noah explained, as if it all made perfect sense.

"Yeah, but that's hardly a genuine relationship. Gypsy's only in it for fun and Kim's trying to impress Queen Hayley. I'm surprised he'd dare invite Gypsy."

"Well, he has and that's one person at least you're friends with," Noah told her, watching her closely for any sign she was about to give in.

"I wouldn't exactly say Gypsy and I are friends, just that we're both hated by Hayley so that kind of bonds us through a mutual enemy," Kit grinned. "But at least Gypsy's probably the one person in the world Hayley despises more than me!" Kit paused for a minute, deep in thought.

Hayley was able to wind most people around her little finger and Kim Hyde in particular was under her spell. Hayley hated Gypsy because she had broken her brother Will's heart - which was a perfectly good reason to hate someone, Kit supposed. Then there was the additional fact that man-eater Gypsy had lately set her long red talons on Jack Holden, the ex-boyfriend of Hayley's best friend, Martha McKenzie.

It was no wonder that Hayley, Martha and their crowd hated Gypsy with such a passion.

"So will you come now Gypsy's going to be there?" Noah asked, turning on that look again.

"Does Hayley know she's going to be there?" Kit asked curiously.

"I don't know," Noah answered honestly. "But does it really matter if she does? Please, please, please just tell me you'll come and I'll love you even more than I already do!"

"What did you say?" Kit asked breathlessly, her heart pounding as she looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

"I said I'd love you more than I already do. You must know by now that I love you, Kit?"

"No. You never said it before." A lump came to her throat and tears of happiness pricked her eyes.

"I know, but it's true. I do love you." Noah gently snaked his hands around her waist and pulled her into his arms. "So will you stop thinking that Hayley's a threat and realise that the only girl I want right now is you, Kit Hunter?"

"Yeah. I reckon I might," Kit told him, putting her arms around the back of his neck and meeting his eyes as Noah leaned in for a kiss. "But...are you sure you're not just saying it to get me to come to the party?"

Noah groaned. "Kit you are completely unbearable but I do love you and I'm not just saying it." He bought his lips down roughly on hers and kissed her with such a passion and intensity that Kit felt her head was spinning. She pulled away abruptly.

"In that case I'll come to the party but you just better do that one more time to convince me." She flashed him a sly grin and obligingly bought his lips back down on hers.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh my god! Did you see what she was wearing? I thought those type of boots went out in the eighties!"

Manic giggles and sniggers greeted Hayley Smith's exclamation and she smiled, pleased with herself.

"No, I think you're wrong."

By virtue of her being friends with Martha, Cassie Turner had been a part of Hayley's crowd since she had moved to the Bay nearly two months ago now but she seemed to have great difficulty bagging anyone out. In fact, Crazy Cassie, as she was known at Summer Bay High, seemed to have difficulty with most things and had some extremely weird traits such as staring into space in the middle of lessons and rocking herself to and fro. Hayley couldn't understand why Martha didn't simply ditch her and hang with the in crowd where she belonged. She glared coldly at Cassie.

"I mean the boots were so bad they probably went out of fashion earlier than the eighties?" Cassie suggested apprehensively, as though she'd had to think about it, and looking at Hayley for confirmation that she was out of her bad books.

"She might be right, you know, Hayles." Bitchiness didn't seem to come naturally to Martha either but at least she was working on it and doing a fair job, Hayley thought approvingly. "Those boots were so outdated but then the whole look was. I mean, _black?_ It's so death-like and it really washes her out. She even _looks_ dead." Cassie was instantly forgiven as Hayley laughed at Martha's observation.

"I know. Noah must feel like he's kissing a corpse. What does he see in her?" Hayley's face no longer wore a smile and Martha put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"He's probably just having some sort of breakdown. I mean, who would honestly pick her over you?" Cassie soothed nervously.

"Cassie's right, Hayles. You're gorgeous, any girl would kill to look like you. The only good thing about Kit Hunter is her older brother. Obviously Scott got all the good looking genes in that family."

Hayley had to smile at that. Scott Hunter was a few years older than them and therefore considered too old to invite to the party, but he was the ultimate dream boy.

"I think he likes me you know. He smiled at me in the Diner the other day," Hayley admitted.

"Really? You're so lucky, I wish he'd smile at me." Martha drifted off into daydream world.

"I thought you were still in love with Jack?" Hayley looked at her friend, surprised.

"I am, but it's okay to dream isn't it?"

"Is Jack forgiven for the Gypsy thing yet?" Cassie asked.

Martha's face clouded over. "No way! He'll have to do some major grovelling before I'll forgive him for that. I know we'd been having problems but Gypsy Nash? She's not even pretty," Martha fumed.

Sometimes, she thought guiltily, she didn't sound like herself at all. She'd never been as bitchy as this before, back when she'd lived on the McKenzie Farm before her parents died in the tragic accident. But it was so easy to slip into the ways of Summer Bay High and do what everyone else did.

"Men are only interested in her because she's easy, she's no way as pretty as you. I'm surprised you took Jack back so easily though. I'd have made him sweat a little more than that." Hayley lay back on her bed and looked to Martha for a reaction.

"Believe me, he's still paying for it. So is there anyone in the Bay caught your eye, Cass?" Martha changed the subject deftly away from her and Jack's relationship, still stung by the fact that Hayley disapproved of something she had done.

"Not really, all the nice guys are either accounted for or have been with Gypsy." Cassie turned her lips up in disgust. "I do think the new boy is sort of cute though, Have you seen him yet?"

"No, I didn't even know there was a new boy." Martha turned to Cassie, eager for information.

Hayley said nothing but she was more than a little irritated that Crazy Cassie was giving out news before she did. Hayley was the source of all information, everybody knew that.

"His name's Kane something or other. I think he might be in your brother's class. Bit of a bad boy, I heard. Sent here after getting expelled from yet another school."

"Yeah, he has a real attitude according to Will and he is kind of cute. Not as nice as Noah though." Hayley was pleased with herself for sounding so knowledgeable without having to make anything up.

"Or Jack," Martha added loyally.

"Well, I think he's pretty cute but we'll see. I can't wait for this party of yours though, Hayles, it's going to be awesome. Is Kane invited?"

"I'll tell Will to invite him for you, he'll be bound to come. After all, it's going to be the party to end all parties." Hayley hugged herself in anticipation.

"Have you decided what you're wearing yet?" Martha wanted to know.

"I have but it's a surprise. I will tell you though that Noah is going to take one look and forget all about Kit."

"Oh, I can't wait to see his face! Have you pretty much got everything sorted?"

"Pretty much. Will's invited most of the guys at school and I've seen to it that a selective number of girls are invited so all the guys will be at our disposal." Hayley smiled, pleased with herself. "All we need now is to fine tune my plan of action."

"What for?" Cassie looked at Hayley quizzically.

"To get Noah back of course!" she announced as Cassie and Martha grinned, eager to be involved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure you're okay with me inviting her?"

"For god's sake, you've asked me like a zillion times now. I don't care if Gypsy comes."

"I know. I just wanted to be sure. I mean, when she heard about the party she kind of invited herself and you know what Gypsy's like," Kim continued.

"Sure I do. Look don't worry about it, mate. It's cool." There was something about Will's laid back response that left Kim unconvinced but having got his friend's consent he didn't want to push it.

"It's going to be a great party. I'm glad you talked Hayley into having it," Kim remarked.

"Hayles was easy, I just reminded her what a great opportunity it was for her to get herself a guy and she agreed straight off." Will grinned to himself. "Unfortunately the only guy she wants is the one she can't have."

"Noah, you mean?" Kim tried hard to ignore the sinking feeling he got in his stomach whenever he thought about how much Hayley still liked Noah.

"Who else? I like Kit though, she's a really cool chick and Noah's so much more easy going now he's with her. Hayles did like to keep him on a leash a bit."

"I wouldn't have minded," Kim remarked wistfully.

"You've still got a thing for her?" Will was surprised, "I thought you liked Gypsy?"

"Not really, Gypsy's fun and easy to be around but she's not exactly girlfriend material is she? Not like Hayley."

"Better not let Gypsy hear you saying that," Will teased.

"Gypsy and I agreed from the start where we stand, she's not interested in anything either. I think she's still in love with you actually."

Will shrugged nonchalantly at Kim's remark but he felt ashamed that his stomach did a somersault at the thought that Gypsy might still be after him. He shook his head angrily.

"Gypsy's ancient history. She blew it with me and I'm well over her."

Will would not admit to anybody how much Gypsy had hurt him. She was the first girl he had really liked but her inability to commit to him had been really tough and when she had slept with Jack Holden, that had been the last straw. He and Jack had been friends since Junior school; it was unforgivable.

"Are you and Jack okay now?" Will was startled at Kim's seeming ability to read his mind.

"Yeah we're good. He was drunk and I know as well as anyone that Gypsy's pretty hard to resist when she turns it on. Besides, I've got my eye on someone else."

"Really? Who?" Kim was both surprised and eager to find out who had caught Will's eye.

"She hasn't started Summer Bay High yet but she will in a week or two. Her parents have bought the Caravan Park."

"Really? And she's hot?"

"Like, seriously hot. I ran into her in the Surf Club, I think her Dad's taken over running the kiosk there."

"I think I've met him. Rhys Sutherland? Someone said he had three daughters."

"Yep, and Dani's the eldest. Dani Sutherland." Will whispered her name as if it was a magic word. "Seriously hot," he repeated.

"I can't wait to meet her."

"Well, you will do. I invited her to the party tomorrow." Will grinned smugly at Kim. "You better keep your hands off though, pretty boy," he added, teasingly.

"Don't worry, mate. I've got my hands full with Gypsy at the moment and trying to win Hayley round."

"Just a hint of advice, mate, but if you're serious about Hayles, hanging with Gypsy isn't going to help you get in there," Will cautioned.

"I know." Kim did know but the truth was that Gypsy was like a drug.

"Have you told Hayles yet that you've invited Gypsy?"

"No," Kim replied sheepishly, "I kind of wasn't going to."

Will burst out laughing. "You big wuss! Hope you're prepared to face her when she does find out then. And don't think you're going to hide behind me!"

"Oh yeah? Who say's I'll need to?" Kim demanded.

"No-one. It's just you can't hide behind me because I'll be busy hiding behind you when Hayles realises I told Noah he could invite Kit." Will burst out laughing and Kim guffawed.

"Hayley is going to majorly flip out!"

"I know! How about we both hide behind Jack?" Will suggested and Kim smiled. Both of them knew that when Hayley did find out it, there was no way she would see the funny side and that was really no laughing matter.

No laughing matter at all.

**Return to Top**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_written by Skykat_**

**_edited by I love music_**

**The Days Before...  
**  
Martha McKenzie angrily fluffed up her pillows yet again and lay back, but it hadn't worked last time and it didn't work this time either. She just couldn't get comfortable. Wriggling a bit more she re-opened the book Miss Fletcher had asked them to read by Monday. But she was finding it impossible to concentrate. How could you be expected to concentrate when your elbows hurt from holding the book above your face and the lines blurred through a mist of tears?

Frustrated, she threw the book across the room, where it landed upright against the wall, pages open, as if to taunt her. She threw two pillows after it in revenge and lay back on the third, wiped a hand across her teary eyes and concentrated instead on what really mattered. Or _who_ really mattered.

Jack Holden.

They had been a couple almost from the moment they had first spoken, when she had accidentally spilled coke all down his shirt and he had demanded, with a twinkle in his eye and a twinkle in his smile, that she go out with him to make up for it. But she had fallen in love from the very first moment she saw him. The day she had been looking for Cassie and caught a glimpse of him through the doors working out in the gym, his bare chest gleaming as he poured all his energy into pumping iron. He was the first boy she had liked, the first boy she had ever loved and his betrayal with Gypsy had hurt. Really hurt.

In some ways it was easy to forgive Jack for cheating with Gypsy. Everyone knew what Gypsy Nash was like. On the other hand, Jack should have known better.

Of course Martha had finished with him, and it had taken weeks of begging, pleading and flowers before she had taken him back. She _had_ taken him back though, fool that she was. For no other reason than that she loved him and she honestly believed he had made a mistake and regretted it.

Since they got back together their relationship was better then ever but now Martha was unsure. Hayley said she had forgiven him too easily. Martha had told her that she was still giving Jack a hard time about it but she had only really said that to impress Hayley. The truth was, Martha was so scared of losing him to another girl that she had been making _too _much effort.

The phone rang, interrupting Martha's thoughts, and she heard her Granddad pick it up in the next room.

"Martha, it's for you love!" Alf Stewart called.

Martha reached lazily over to pick up the extension in her room. She hoped it was Cassie, at least with Cassie she could talk about her worries.

No such luck.

"Hi, babe."

"Hi, Jack," she replied calmly, trying desperately hard to ignore the butterflies that erupted in her stomach just on hearing his voice.

"What are you up to?"

"Just reading that novel Miss Fletcher set."

"Do you fancy going for a walk or something, down by the beach maybe?" Jack suggested.

A frizzle of excitement shivered down Martha's spine as she imagined walking hand in hand with him across the deserted beach. The pair of them together, watching the sun set, his arms providing her with the heat the sun had taken away…And then Hayley's disapproving expression filtered into Martha's mind.

"Best not Jack, it's a school night. Granddad won't be happy."

"Oh come on Martha, it's not even seven," Jack protested.

"No sorry. No can do." Firmly Martha replaced the receiver thinking that Hayley would have been proud of her. So why did she feel so wretched?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack Holden stared at the receiver. He had the distinct impression that Martha was upset with him and he was damned if he knew why.

"Dad, I'm going out!" he called, racing out of his room.

"Not so fast Jack. Where are you going?" Jack was surprised at how quickly his Dad moved to block the exit but then he _was_ a PE teacher.

"He's going on a date with Martha, mmmwwaa, kiss, kiss." Jack's younger brother Lucas wrapped his arms around his body, shut his eyes and made little kissing noises.

"Is that what you do with Matilda Hunter from next door then?" Jack snapped, embarrassed and was rewarded when Lucas turned bright red and disappeared.

"Jack, that was a bit uncalled for," Tony cautioned.

"He was winding me up. Look I'm not going out with Martha, she's in a mood with me over something. I was just going to go see if Noah and Will are done surfing yet and grab an OJ or something with them in the Surf Club."

"Have you done your homework?"

"Yes." Jack crossed his fingers behind his back so his Dad couldn't see.

"Okay then, but I want you back in this house by nine."

"Ten," Jack challenged.

"Nine thirty." Tony's voice was firm and brokered no argument so Jack knew it was pointless to argue.

"OK, bye, Dad."

He raced from the house before Tony could grill him anymore and walked at a fairly brisk pace towards the Surf Club. Looking around he could see no sign of Will or Noah. Probably still out surfing, he reckoned, deciding to order a milkshake.

He had not seen the girl behind the counter before but he assumed she was the girl that Will had been raving about. Dani something or other. She was pretty hot, he could see why Will was so smitten. He smiled at her as she handed him the milkshake.

"I wouldn't let the girlfriend see you exchanging smiles with other girls. Wouldn't Martha be jealous?"

Jack recognised the teasing, playfully sarcastic tone straight away and turned round embarrassed to face Gypsy.

"I was just being friendly," he defended hotly.

"Sure. And I was just saying," Gypsy grinned at him.

"You make Martha sound totally paranoid." For some reason Gypsy still managed to get under his skin and Jack always felt uncomfortable around her.

Maybe it was because he never knew what to expect from her or maybe it was because he knew_ exactly_ what to expect.

"Isn't she?" Gypsy was standing close to him now, so close he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. Her hazel sparkled mischievously.

"That last wave was awesome!"

Will's voice cut through the air like a knife and Gypsy moved away from Jack but as she did she threw him a look over her shoulder, the sort of look that spelled trouble.  
"What was that about?" Will looked at Jack suspiciously.

"Nothing. Just Gypsy being Gypsy."

Fortunately Will at that moment spotted Dani Sutherland behind the counter and the subject was forgotten as he moved off in her direction.

"So what time do you finish here then?" Will leaned casually on the counter and ran his hand through his hair in what he had no doubt was a sexy manner.

Dani gave him a wry look and checked her watch. "In about half an hour," she replied, nudging him gently aside so that she could clean the counter.

"You fancy joining us for a drink when you're done?" Will was pleased with the way he managed to get the invitation out, oh, so casually, but then he had always been pretty good with women. Even if he said so himself.

"I don't think so."

Will's mouth dropped open and he turned to look at her, startled. She had knocked him back!

"Why not? We don't bite, you know," he urged, turning on his best Will Smith grin that had made many a girl fall at his feet.

"I'm sure you don't but I have to get home. My Mum'll have dinner ready for me and besides I'm not sure hanging out with a group of boys is exactly my thing."

Dani glanced over to where Kim and Noah were playfully teasing Jack about something. They were pushing and pinching him, causing Jack to yelp with pain every two seconds and Noah and Kim to burst out in hysterical laughter.

"They're not that bad. Besides Noah's girlfriend Kit will be down here in a minute and Jack's girlfriend Martha might come down too." Will knew that Kit was coming down because Noah had mentioned it a million times but he had no idea about Martha. It sounded good to have lots of girls though.

"Who's the red-haired girl?" Dani asked curiously, "The one who was here before and is now shooting daggers in my direction?"

Will turned to follow her gaze and saw Gypsy turn swiftly back to the games machine she had been playing on.

"Gypsy? Aw, she's nobody." Will didn't want to get onto the Gypsy subject. No girl wanted to hear that a guy's ex was the town bike with a tiny psychosis problem.

"Right." Dani looked unconvinced but she let the subject drop and continued cleaning the drinks machine.

"So will you join us then?" Will tried again.

"Still no. I told you Mum'll have dinner ready." Will put on his best 'hurt puppy' expression and looked at her pleadingly and Dani giggled. "Another time maybe."

"You're still coming the party?" Will was getting desperate now, she just _had_ to come to the party. There was no way he was ready to be at the same party as Gypsy without someone as hot as Dani on his arm. Not that she'd technically be on his arm but it would be enough to make Gypsy spew.

"Yeah, I'll come." She smiled gently, "You should go back to your friends though before they kill each other."

Grinning now, his head somewhere on cloud nine, Will picked up the milkshakes and headed back to the table.

"You look pretty pleased with yourself." Noah looked at Will questioningly.

"She wants me," Will grinned and to his annoyance his three friends burst into laughter. "She does! Anyway Kit's here." Will directed Noah's attention and his ploy worked. Noah was instantly on his feet and heading in her direction.

"That boy has it bad," Jack remarked, watching Noah.

"And you don't? You're like that over Martha!" Will teased.

"It's not that bad. I've just got a lot of making up to do with Martha, that's all. I'm certainly not under the thumb the way Noah is."

"I don't think Noah's under the thumb, just besotted," Kim replied.

"That'll be me and Dani soon," Will told them confidently.

And so what if Gypsy heard and a shadow crossed Gypsy's face as she turned back to the games machine? He was well over Gypsy. Well, well over Gypsy Nash. Wasn't he?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_**written by Skykat**_

_**edited by I love music**_

_**Party Night**  
_  
"Hey, Mac, how are you?"

Cassie, who was sitting at one of the Diner tables toying with the frayed straps of her schoolbag, gave Martha McKenzie a broad, welcoming grin, feeling on top of the world.

It promised to be a glorious day. Early morning customers were already bringing in the sunshine and smell of salty sea air and there was the buzz of early morning conversation as croissants were ordered, golden toast popped out of giant toasters, the coffee percolator bubbled, Lucy Merryweather ,working at the Diner to supplement her uni grant, noisily stacked the freshly washed wooden trays, and Colleen Smart, expertly catching and buttering said golden toast with golden butter, glared at people who took up unnecessary room, friend or no friend of the owner's granddauhter.

But the glares washed over Cassie. Nothing could have destroyed her happiness at that moment. She still found it hard to believe that someone actually liked her enough to be her friend. And not just anyone either but THE most popular girl in the school. Oh, Hayley and everyone else might_ think_ that Hayley was queen bee of Summer Bay High but Cass could see it all more clearly. Everyone tagged on after Hayley because she was very, very pretty, filthy rich and had almost celebrity status - her younger brother, Nick, had been noticed by a movie director while at drama school and signed up for a minor role in a new film being made in Hollywood.

Cassie had no doubt that, had you asked anyone at Summer Bay High who was the most popular student, they would immediately have said Hayley Smith - but then ask them who was the most _liked _student and, without hesitation, they would all have said Martha 'Mac' McKenzie. Oh, and Jack Holden! Martha's boyfriend, though the relationship was very much an on/off/on/off one. Neither Jack nor Martha, for all their quarrels with each other however , had any animosity towards anyone and being in their company gave her an incredibly safe feeling of belonging. In Cassie's fragile world, with secrets buried so deep, it was an entirely new experience to be with people her own age group who treated her as an equal and not as Crazy Cassie.

Every morning her Gran, with whom she lived, gave her money for both breakfast and dinner so it had become tradition for Cassie to stop by the Diner for breakfast and then walk to school with Martha. They were usually joined by Hayley and Will, further along the path to school.

"I'm okay, Cass," Martha answered her question, smiling back. Despite the genuine warmth of the smile, Cassie thought her friend looked anything _but_ okay. Her face was pale and there were large black rings under her eyes.

"Did you get any sleep?" She asked, worried Martha might have been burning the midnight oil by too much studying.

"Not really. Tell you on the way. Bye, Grandad!"

But Alf's answering call was lost as Martha raced Cassie out of the Diner, where she promptly burst into tears.

"Hey, what is it?" Cassie gently put her arm round her friend's shoulders as she sobbed.

"It's Jack," Martha said at last.

"What's he done now?" There was a hint of resignation in Cassie's voice. Why couldn't Martha and Jack see that they were made for each other? It had broken her heart as much as Martha's when Jack cheated on Martha with Gypsy.

"Nothing. He hasn't done anything. It's me."

"That makes a whole lot of sense," Cassie giggled.

Martha managed a smile. "He hasn't done anything. Not really. He phoned me last night to ask me to go out for a walk with him but I said no. It's the Gypsy thing," she admitted with a sigh.

"I thought you'd both worked your way through that?"

"So did I, but what Hayley said the other night got me thinking. Do you think I've forgiven him too easily?"

"Well..I...um..." Cassie was caught off guard by the question and stuttered over her answer. "But, Mac, I just hate it when you guys fight!"

"So you _do_ think I forgave him too easily then?"

"No, I didn't say that." Cassie wasn't used to being asked her opinion until Martha and Summer Bay High and she was anxious to be scrupulously honest. "I think what he did was rotten but it _was_ a mistake, he was drunk and he's really sorry…"

"He is." Martha nodded agreement. "He's so sorry for it and he's been so lovely to me since. He was really drunk and we both know how persuasive Gypsy can be."

"That's true. At the end of the day you love him and he loves you. If you've forgiven him then that's all that matters," Cassie replied logically, glad to be able to supply a brighter answer.

"Yeah you're right! I'll make it up with him when we get to school," Martha promised, linking her friend's arm. "Have you decided what you're wearing yet for the party yet? I bought this new dress the other week and I think I'll wear it. Do you remember me telling you?"

"Is it the red mini dress? The really low cut one?"

"Yeah, I want Jack to realise that he's much better off with me than with Gypsy. I think the dress will do it. I'd never have been able to wear it though if we weren't getting ready at Hayley's, I think Granddad would hit the roof if he saw it!"

"I think my Nan would too if she saw me. I'm going to wear my really tiny black shorts and a tiny top."

Cassie glanced sideways at her friend. Martha would never dream how difficult the decision had been for Cassie to make. How she had stood in front of the full length mirror in her room yesterday, trying out the shorts and top, realising how it accentuated her figure and been terrified and exhilarated all at once. Then how she had looked again and seen what she was.

_She closed her eyes and mumbled over and over without realising her voice must have gotten louder "It IS okay to wear it, it IS okay, other girls would, you're normal, normal, normal" until her Gran called curiously upstairs, "Cass! Who's up there with you?"_

"_Nobody, Gran. I was just singing to the radio." _

_Cassie's reflection gazed back at her with haunted memories in its dark eyes and tears glistening on its cheeks and whispered "But you're not normal, are you? You're Crazy Cassie, that's why he..." before sinking defeatedly down to the floor, covering its face with its arms to hide the silently falling tears. _

But Martha gave no sign that she realised anything was amiss and Cassie shook the memory away, adding lightly. "Wonder if Hayley's asked Will to ask Kane Phillips yet?"

"Why don't you ask her?" Martha indicated to where Will and Hayley were walking down the track from the grand Smith residence to meet them.

"No! I can't! I'd look stupid," Cassie protested.

"Cass, you're _always _worried about looking stupid, you dill!" Martha laughed and affectionately punched her arm, feeling, as she often did, that Cassie was a much younger sister. "I'll ask her for you, coward." She raised her voice. "Hayles! Did you ask Will to ask the new guy to your party yet?"

"Yep, she asked me and I said I'll see what I can do. Laters!" Will quickly made his escape, he hated walking to school with Hayley and her friends.

"Thanks, Hayles," Cassie replied gratefully.

"As if I'd let you down! Excited for tonight?" Hayley looked smug, well aware she called the shots round Summer Bay High.

"You betcha! It'll be a blast," Martha replied, her earlier tears forgotten.

"Yeah, ripper!" Cassie agreed, picturing Kane's face when he saw her all dressed up tonight and trying not to think of the scene in the mirror. He had so far only seen her in her school uniform so it was no wonder he hadn't noticed her. That would all change tonight, Cassie was sure of it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"God, don't you just hate girls!" Will met up with Noah, Kit and Jack in the schoolyard of Summer Bay High.

"I quite like them myself," Noah replied, kissing Kit gently on the back of her head and wrapping his arms tighter round her.

"Right answer, now you get a prize," Kit replied, leaning back to kiss him.

"Oh puhlease!" Will made vomiting motions.

"You're only jealous," Noah grinned.

"Which girls in particular do you hate?" Kit asked.

"Hayley, Martha and Cassie."

"I take it back, you were right first time," Kit remarked dryly.

"Hey!" Jack warned.

"Come on, mate, you were only saying last night that Martha's being a pain," Noah reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'm allowed to say it. She's my girlfriend."

"So do you guys think Dani's hot?" Will was keen to bring the subject round to something far, far more important and one which had occupied his mind ever since he had first set eyes on the new girl in town.

"Dani, Dani, sorry, don't know any Dani," Noah teased, raising his eyebrows.

"I think she's stunning," Kit added with a giggle.

"Hey, there's that new guy, what do you think of him?" Noah pointed to where Kane Philips was sitting, alone under a tree, smoking a cigarette and glaring thunderously at everyone who walked past.

"He's in my class, he's a bit weird," Will admitted.

"Weird's one word, I suppose. I'd call it more of an attitude problem. You should have heard the grief he was giving Miss Fletcher in History yesterday." Kit curled her lip up in distaste. "The guy has anger issues."

"You don't really know the bloke that well," Jack said. "He's okay once you get talking."

"Sheesh! And I thought I was meant to be the one studying psychology!" Noah grinned. "And, Jack, mate, you're probably the only one in the whole school who's ever managed a conversation with him."

"Future cops have to know what goes on inside the head of future crims so my guess is Jack's working on his first assignment," Kit suggested mischievously.

Will frowned. "Well, Hayles wants me to invite him to the party we're throwing tonight while the olds are away. As if there's not going to be enough trouble!"

"What sort of trouble?" Kit wanted to know.

"The sort that Hayley's going to kick up when she realises you and Gypsy are going." Will informed her.

He gave a deep sigh and thrust his hands in his pockets. The casual invitations Noah and Kim had flung out to Kit and Gypsy, Hayley's arch enemies, was like a match to torchpaper. But what could he do, how else could he impress the beautiful Dani Sutherland without this party? Why couldn't folk just get along, easygoing Will wondered, deciding to close his eyes to the whole problem in the hope it might just quietly creep away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Have you asked him yet?" Hayley, Martha and Cassie cornered Will in the corridor at lunchtime.

"No, and I'm not going to. The guy's a freak, he nearly killed Mr Williams last week for putting him on detention. He's a psycho, I'm telling you," Will insisted.

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, dear brother. As always." Hayley rolled her eyes. "If you won't ask him to the party, I will." She glared at him as she delivered her ultimatum.

"Be my guest but don't blame me if he goes schizo on you. He's over there, by the way." Will stalked off, leaving Hayley speechless and only half afraid. Normally her older brother always did her bidding. Martha and Cassie were both looking at her expectantly and she turned to look at Kane. He was cute in a brooding sort of way, there was something about him, a _don't mess with me _kind of look.

"Please, Hayles, I really like him and you're not scared of anything. Please, please ask him for me," Cassie begged, heart beating rapidly.

Hayley smiled at the compliment. Cassie was right though. Hayley Smith was not scared of anything. Except...

Being Alone.

Squaring her shoulders she headed over.

"Kane?" she was standing right behind him but he blatantly ignored her. "Kane?" she repeated.

"What?" He snapped angrily, his eyes blazing with fury and Hayley found her heart-rate increasing with the excitement of danger. She'd never met a guy yet that she didn't have eating out of her hand, but she had a feeling Kane Phillips was going to be the biggest challenge ever. She was scared but she took a deep breath.

"I'm Hayley Smith, you've probably heard of me…" she began.

"Nope." He abruptly turned his back on her and Hayley's jaw dropped open.

"Right. Well anyway I just wanted to invite you to the party we're having tonight at my house. Everyone who is anyone will be there. No dags, no dropkicks, no uglies. Just the coolest people. We'd really like you to come, especially my friend Cassie." Hayley felt proud of herself and the way she had phrased the invite so that he fully appreciated the honour she had just bestowed upon him.

"Really? Just the coolest people, huh?"

Kane was looking at her with a look she just couldn't quite fathom. He was supposed to be impressed. Anyone else would have been. But one second she thought he was angry with her, the next she thought he was laughing at her. She just couldn't figure him out.

"Yes, really," she insisted, "so, you see, you should come."

"And do you want me to come?"

"Well, yes, or I wouldn't have invited you, would I?" Hayley felt a warmth spread through her body. He liked her! He must do, why else would he ask something like that? He was very cute and they'd look good together. Kane and Hayley, it had a good ring to it.

"I'll think about it."

He was openly grinning at her now. Well, more of a smirk, like he had got one over on her. No that didn't make sense, more likely it was because he knew she had clicked on that he liked her.

"Well, don't take too long." Hayley fluttered her eyelashes at him and moved her body closer in her most flirtatious manner.

"Like I said, I'll think about it." Still grinning, he strolled away, and Hayley returned to an expectant Martha and Cassie.

"Well?"

"I think he's probably going to come," Hayley replied, incredibly satisfied with herself and incredibly confused by Kane Phillips at the same time.

"Did he mention me?" Cassie asked eagerly.

"No, not really, but I'm sure he likes you," Hayley told her, and Cassie's face lit up.

So it was a lie but Cassie would never know and it wasn't Hayley's fault if Kane preferred her now, was it? Cassie Turner had been getting way, way too big for her boots. In fact, let's face it, Cassie Turner needed teaching a lesson and Hayley, not Summer Bay High, was just the one to teach it. Hayley flicked back her long blonde hair and smiled innocently, appreciating the irony of her own joke, looking like a model student as she took out her books.


	4. Chapter 4

_**chapter 4**_

_Written by Skykat_

_edited by I love music_

_**Friendship**_

_**  
**_  
"Well?"

Hayley spun round in front of Martha and Cassie, her short mini dress flaring around her, the blue silky material hugging the gentle curves of her body.

"You look fabulous," Martha said in honest admiration and Hayley beamed as she spun around once more, in case they hadn't quite appreciated just how fabulous she looked first time.

"I know, Noah won't be able to resist me. I mean, it's not as if that little tool Kit could ever wear something like this, is it?" Hayley licked her full lips and perfect even white teeth, extremely pleased with her wit.

Martha giggled but, to Hayley's disgust, the joke appeared lost on Cassie. _Again. _The drongo was _always _far too dim-witted to understand subtle humour, Hayley thought, wondering for the umpteenth time what the hell Mac saw in the stupid jerk.

Crazy Cassie didn't belong in the exclusive circle of The Beautiful People and Hayley was doing her damnedest to push her out of the Summer Bay High loop without Martha, who was very much_ in_, suspecting a thing. For God's sake, frayed school bag, scuffed, dated shoes, mutterings to herself and staring into space at random moments or carefully counting out every cent and working out complicated _if-I-skip-brekkie-and-just-have-coffee-today-and-tomorrow-and-have-baked-potato-with-cottage-cheese-but-no-salad-for-lunch-three-days-running-I'll-be-able-to-afford-it _if they decided to do something as simple as catch a movie. Why didn't she just tell the senile wrinklie who was her guardian that she needed more cash?

But Hayley had to tread carefully. For some peculiar reason, Mac liked Crazy Cassie heaps. Hayley had curiously asked her why once and Martha had shrugged as she brushed the thick, lustrous hair that made Hayley sick with envy.

"She's so sweet, isn't she? The kid sister I always wanted," she enthused happily, naively imagining Hayley was asking because she thought of Cassie in the same way. "And we have quite a bit in common, what with me living with Grandad and Cass living with her Gran."

"Mmmm," Hayley replied disdainfully, concentrating on curling the mascara brush round her long lashes. God, it was like going to school with the Brady Bunch!

"You look stunning, Hayles," Cassie was smiling now, doing nothing to dispel the Brady Bunch image.

Immediately Cass felt like a heel and to hide her guilt busied herself stripping to her underwear ready to change into her party clothes. If only poor Hayley knew! Cassie was burning with jealousy. What if Kane preferred Hayley to her? _What is it with you these days? _She chided herself. _You never used to be such a cow. And Hayley was only joking about Kit, but there's you thinking she's enjoying being a bitch_. _Well, takes one to know one, Cass, takes one to know one._

_  
_"You know something, Miss Cassie Turner?" Martha's voice suddenly broke into her thoughts. She had paused from putting in her earrings and was studying her shrewdly. "You're getting a bit too skinny for your own good. I noticed you didn't eat any brekkie today. How many times have I told you it's the most important meal of the day?"

"Yes, Mum." Cassie grinned sheepishly. "I'm saving for Gran's birthday."

"Cass, you dag! Why didn't you say? I'll tell Grandad to give you free toast and..."

"Don't you think you'd better get changed now?" Hayley interrupted impatiently. "And don't take too long, we've heaps to do." She stalked off without giving them time to answer.

"At least all our make-up was done at home, and our hair, I just need to run the tongs over my curls. Why don't you plug the straighteners in, Cass, so they warm up while you change?" Martha asked kindly . She hadn't taken any offence at Hayley's abruptness, simply putting it down to pre-party nerves, but Cassie, who was much more sensitive, looked upset.

Martha smiled to herself as she picked up the tongs. Her friends back home in Brookdown, where she'd lived before the tragic death of her parents, would be amazed if they could see her now.

It had been a standing joke that Martha 'Mac' McKenzie never bothered with hair and make-up and as for going out, well, a quick shower and first thing snatched out of the wardrobe would do (occasionally even taking pot luck with her eyes closed). More than once she had gone on a dinner date, no make-up, hair long and loose, wearing her favourite corduroy trousers and her brother's check farm shirt (Macca was slim, Mac liked it, he wasn't bothered and it was fresh out of the wash so why not?) and nobody minded. They hadn't minded anything in the quiet farming village of Brookdown, which very proudly boasted its own small restaurant, pub, garage, three shops, doctor's and health centre, all clustered together next to the ancient stone cross that marked the site of the old village market. Summer Bay, regarded by most people as an unremarkable little seaside town, seemed a whirl of city life to Mac, and its residents, particularly those who attended Summer Bay High, the last word in sophistication.

"Good idea." Cassie quickly plugged the straighteners in. A few minutes later both girls were in their respective outfits and just adding the finishing touches.

"You really suit red, Martha, and your hair looks so pretty curly." Cassie thought Martha looked gorgeous, maybe even more gorgeous than Hayley.

"Thanks. Jack always liked my hair curly. Those shorts are great on you, your legs are so long."

"Hope Kane thinks so too." Cassie's heart began its rapid beating again.

"He will. Who could resist?" Martha flashed Cassie a reassuring smile.

"Are you two done yet?" Hayley yelled upstairs.

"Just coming!" Martha called back as she and Cassie headed into the front room.

"Oh, no, Martha, you can't wear that!"

"What?" Martha was crestfallen at Hayley's response. "Why?"

"It's obvious to anyone that you've only copied what I'm wearing," Hayley replied as Martha's jaw dropped open and tears appeared at the corners of her eyes.

"I haven't! I didn't even know what you were wearing!" The tears were really threatening now as Martha protested her innocence but Hayley's lips were set in a firm line.

"But, Hayley, Martha's dress is a different colour, a different material, a different style, the only thing the same is that it's a dress!" Cassie mildly pointed out, genuinely puzzled.

Hayley glared at Cassie. "Well_ you_ haven't made much of an effort have you? God, Cass, you look like something the cat dragged in! This is the party of _the year_, not a church social, for Crissakes! It's up to you, Martha, but you can't wear that dress to my party." She added coldly.

"What am I meant to wear? I didn't bring anything else!" Martha's voice trembled. She longed to be chic and fashionable like everyone else and she was heartbroken at the faux pas.

"There's a green top on my chair that'd be perfect for you and I pulled out a pair of trousers that are much too big on me so they'll fit you just right. It's your choice." Hayley headed into the kitchen and Cassie quickly guided Martha to the bedroom before the tears became an onslaught.

"Hey, come on, don't ruin your make-up," Cassie urged, but Martha was already crying. Cassie hugged her gently until her tears were spent.

"What am I going to do, Cass? Jack's going to be here and that green top's horrible and those trousers will be way too big!"

"Well, I've got an idea," Cassie said brightly. "Why don't we tell Hayley you're going home to get changed but go to the Surf Club instead? You know that's where Jack and the boys are meeting, tell them you're picking up some extra crisps for the party. That way Jack'll get to see you in the dress and you can come back to the party with them. Just tell Hayley that on the way home you ran into Jack and he wouldn't let you get changed. She can't say anything then, can she?"

"Yeah, I guess by then everyone will be here and she'll be too busy worrying about Noah. I look a mess though!"

"That's quickly sorted. Come on, I'll sort your face out for you. _Do_ I look that bad, Mac?" Cassie looked anxiously at her friend.

"Seriously? You need to ask? You look great, Cass," Martha said reassuringly.

Cassie smiled, relieved. It was so difficult, trying to fit in when she never had before. She didn't know what she'd do without Mac. "Well, let's get you done so you're all gorgeous again. Then you sneak out of the window and I'll make your excuses," she said briskly.

"You're a good friend, Cass." Martha gave her a hug, which was returned just as warmly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Come on, Kit! Noah's getting bored out here. He'll run off with someone else if you're not careful!" Robbie Hunter was having a whale of a time teasing his older sister through the door.

"You leave her alone, Rob." Beth Hunter shouted up the stairs. She turned back to Noah. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks, Mrs H," Noah replied with a smile. "There's no-one else I'd want to run off with!" He added, loud enough for Kit to hear and was rewarded with a smile from her Mum.

"Noah, tell Kit I've decided to go out to eat. Robbie's coming with me so you two can have some peace."

_"Oh, Muuum!" _Robbie whined, having come downstairs just in time to hear the announcement. Beth was already pushing him out of the door, smiling at Noah who returned her grin. He liked Mrs Hunter.

Standing up, he headed to Kit's room and knocked on her closed door.

"Your Mum's taken Robbie out to dinner so there's just you and me in the house." He said hopefully as he waited for her to open the door.

It took a few minutes but eventually the door was opened and Noah's mouth dropped open in admiration.

"You look _stunning!_" He managed to whisper at last.

His girlfriend was wearing a black skirt over leggings and a red corset style top with her trusty black boots. Noah thought the look was very Kit, very typical of her style but also incredibly sexy. Her hair had soft red tones in it and was hung loose on her shoulders and she was wearing light make-up, two things which she rarely bothered to do.

"You really think so?"

Noah was amazed at how insecure she sounded but it only made him like her all the more. She was so genuine, so unassuming. So unlike Hayley.

"You look perfect, but where's my little tomboy gone? Not that I'm complaining, you should wear your hair down more often."

"Ten out of ten for charm school, Lawson," she teased, her sense of humour returning with her confidence. "I just fancied a change and I wanted you to be proud of me."

"As if I could ever be anything else! Hope you're prepared to get ready all over again though."

"Why's that?" Kit looked at him, confused.

"Because we have the house to ourselves and there's no way, with you looking like that, I'm _not_ going to take advantage." Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her tenderly and pushed the door shut behind them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This keeping quiet is killing me!" Kim Hyde lay back, exhausted.

"It's fun though, isn't it?" Gypsy whispered as she sat up and looked at him.

"I still can't believe Hayley said all that to Martha, it was so unlike her," Kim remarked.

"Bull! It's _exactly_ like her, it's just that she puts on a very good act in front of you," Gypsy told him.

"Don't, Gyps!" Kim turned away. Despite what he had heard, Kim could not help liking Hayley and he hated it when Gypsy bagged her out.

"As you wish."

Gypsy's fingers were drawing circles on his bare chest, her fingernails lightly scratching the surface. Kim sighed with frustration as her lips followed her fingers, briefly touching, teasing, drawing back again. Oh, God, it was torture! So much promised, so much torn away...

"Please, Gyps..." He begged.

"We'll see," Gypsy said calmly with a teasing smile.

He hoped Hayley never found out about him and Gypsy. But he couldn't resist.

He remembered the first time she had turned on the charm. He had known it was a bad idea but Gypsy was incredibly sexy. She knew exactly how to behave around men, what to say, to do. Her confidence was so irresistible. There was something about her that Kim had found impossible to refuse and now he was addicted. She had cast a spell on him, like a drug that he desperately wanted out of his system but at the same time couldn't be without. At times he really hated her, at other times he really needed her. When she flirted with other guys he felt jealous and at the same time grateful.

Hayley was different. He had been in love with Hayley from the second he had met her. She was so perfect, so stunningly beautiful. The girl every guy dreamed about and who was so hard to get.

Recently though Hayley _had_ begun to notice him more. Maybe it was because he was working out regularly now. He knew he was in good shape and girls were paying him more attention. Hayley had started being nicer to him, almost flirting with him, and Kim's hopes had been raised.

He knew she was still in love with her ex, Noah, _that_ was no secret but he couldn't stop himself hoping that she might be falling for him and that made his liaison with Gypsy even more dangerous.

Gypsy and Hayley despised one other.

Whenever Hayley even glanced at him he wanted to end things with Gypsy. But he couldn't. Not because Gypsy would be hurt, he knew Gypsy only saw him as a bit of fun, another conquest. Gypsy didn't care about guys the way most girls did. She thought of him as a toy and he had no doubt that if he ended things she'd just find someone else.

The problem was that, however much he wanted Hayley, he couldn't _stop_ seeing Gypsy. He was addicted. Wonderfully, horribly addicted and he couldn't say no to her, even when so much was at stake.

"Shouldn't we start getting ready for the party?" He asked as her fingers made his pulse rate increase.

"There's plenty of time for that," she whispered.

Outside he could hear Hayley's beautifully sweet laugh and he physically recoiled but Gypsy's lips were coming towards his and as she kissed him, Kim felt himself succumb to her. She was a drug and like any addict he needed his fix.

Regardless of the consequences.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_**written by Skykat**_

_**edited by I love music**_

_**  
Complicated**_

_  
_"Hey, Will!" Jack Holden slapped Will Smith on the shoulder and pulled up a chair opposite. "What time are Kim and Noah meeting us then?"

"Damn! Worst score than last time!" Will clicked off the game he'd been playing on his mobile phone. "Kim isn't anymore. He texted to say he had some important business to take care of, didn't say what, but he'll meet up with us at the party. Noah was picking Kit up so he'll be on his way."

Jack gave a knowing smile. "Don't bet on it. I saw Mrs Hunter and Robbie going into the Diner and Scott's out on the boat so there's a pretty good chance Noah and Kit are Home Alone."

"Good on him! He's heaps happier with Kit than he was with my sis." Will grinned.

"Yeah, Kit's cool - and she lets him hang with us which is more important." Jack clinked his drink with Will's.

"So how's _your _love life?" Will asked.

Jack pulled a face. "I still haven't seen Martha. I avoided her in school today because I was sure she was going to have a go, she was so off with me on the phone last night. I haven't a clue what I'm meant to have done but I thought it best to just stay out of her way."

"You big wuss!" Will laughed. "But...um... you might not be able to hide too much longer, mate. She just walked in."

"You're kidding!" Jack spluttered over his drink and almost choked coughing. "Has she seen me?"

"Not yet but I'd get over there fast if I were you. She looks seriously hot and Greg Thompson is positively drooling."

Jack turned and saw Martha waiting by the bar. She was wearing a short red dress that showed off her tanned, toned legs, the silky material hugging every curve of her perfect body, her long dark hair falling in loose waves, shining under the bar lights. Truly unaware of just how beautiful she was, Jack thought, and of the admiring glances. Like Will said, seriously hot.

And Greg Thompson, a guy they knew from school, was smoothing back his hair and moving in for the kill! Jack was on his feet in a flash.

"Hey," he greeted her, reaching Martha so quickly that a stunned Jeff came to a dead halt, wondering what had just hit him.

"Hey," she replied, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

"I thought you were getting ready at Hayley's?"

"I was but I decided I don't like this dress. I was heading home to change but thought I might pick up some more crisps on the way." Martha felt so nervous that he was going to guess the real reason she was here that her hands were shaking.

"Don't change. You look beautiful," Jack told her honestly.

"Really?" Martha looked uncertainly up at him, her mischievous green eyes meeting his own brown ones. Full of love for her. How could she have doubted him?

"Yes," Jack confirmed. "Look Martha…" he began, at the same time as she began to speak. "You go," he urged, grinning.

"Okay. I was going to say I'm sorry for blanking you on the phone. I was in a foul mood and I took it out on you." It was a lie but there was no point bringing up the Gypsy thing again, it was bound to cause another row.

"I'm sorry too because I...uh...dodged you in school all day. I thought I'd done something wrong and I didn't want you having a go at me. Sorry."

"Jack Holden, you are such a dag!" But Martha was laughing.

"I know." Jack's lips twitched. "We're good though?"

"We're good," Martha confirmed with a smile and Jack quickly pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "What was that for?"

"In case you hadn't noticed every guy in the room is looking at you. I wanted them to know we're an item."

"Maybe we should give them something to look at then." This time she was the one who initiated the kiss and there was no way Jack was resisting.

"Uh hum, when you guys are quite finished…" Will said. "I promised Hayles we'd get there early."

"Sorry," Martha said sheepishly.

"Don't apologise to him, he should be apologising for interrupting us." Jack glared at Will but inside he was smiling.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wow! I wasn't expecting things to be in full swing already," Will remarked as they entered the Beach House and were almost blasted away by the music.

"Looks like it's going to be a great party," Jack said.

"It's my party, what did you expect?" Will patted his chest self importantly.

"There's Dani," Jack said suddenly, winking at Martha.

"Where?" Will looked round frantically as Martha burst out laughing.

"Nowhere, I just wanted a reaction!" Will punched Jack on the arm.

"Who's Dani?" Cassie asked curiously.

She and Hayley had appeared behind them, and even though her attention seemed focussed on Jack and Will, Hayley found time to glare at Martha.

"Dani's the new girl Will has the hots for, she works in the Kiosk at the Surf Club. He's a little bit obsessed, aren't you mate?" Jack teased.

"I thought you going home to get changed, Mac?" Hayley's voice was sweet in front of Jack and Will but her eyes met Martha's and told a completely different story.

"I was, but I ran into Jack and…"

"And I told her she'd be crazy to change because she looks amazing. Best looking girl in the room. In the whole of Summer Bay." Jack put his arm around her shoulders but Martha grimaced. Jack was saying such lovely things but it was only rubbing salt in the wounds as far as Hayley was concerned.

"Noah's on his way," Martha said, quickly changing the subject in an attempt to keep the peace.

"I thought Noah was coming with you two?" Hayley tried to sound casual.

"He was, but he was busy doing other stuff so he'll get here later," Will replied, shooting a look at Jack.

Martha was puzzled by their guilty expressions. And then realisation dawned. Jack had mentioned Noah was seeing Kit. Surely Noah wasn't foolhardy enough to invite _Kit_ of all people to Hayley's party? Or was he...?

"I'm just going to freshen up," she said, exchanging a secret glance with Cassie. She left the group and made her way to the bathroom. After a few seconds there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Martha urged as Cassie poked her head round the door.

"Told you it'd work, didn't I?" Cassie was grinning from ear to ear.

Martha smiled. "Yeah, it was a brilliant idea. Thanks, Cass. Jack was so sweet and we sorted everything out. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. We have a _huge_ problem." She took a deep breath. "I think...I don't know...but I think Noah might be coming to the party with Kit!"

"Oh, my God! Poor Hayley!"

"I know." Martha looked uncomfortable. "Do we tell her or not? I mean, why spoil the party for her when I could be wrong?"

"Exactly." Cassie nodded, flattered that Martha was seeking her advice. "I reckon we keep quiet and hope for the best. Deal?"

"Deal." Martha agreed, glad she had Cassie to confide in as they heard Hayley shouting so loudly that the whole house seemed to shake.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hayles, what's wrong?" Martha asked, full of concern.

"I want to know what she's doing here!" Hayley was glaring furiously at her brother and Jack.

"I guess she must have come with Noah," Cassie whispered in a low voice.

"What are you talking about? What's Noah got to do with this?" Hayley glowered at Crazy Cassie, wondering if she'd finally flipped. "I refuse to have _her_ at my party!"

"Well tough luck, Princess. I was invited and I'm not going anywhere so you'll just have to wear it."

Martha and Cassie turned around, horrified to see Gypsy Nash leaning casually at the bottom of the stairs that led to the opposite wing of the house while Kim was hurrying down, desperately pulling a shirt over his head.

_"Who _invited _her? _Or need I ask?" Hayley turned her furious gaze on Kim, who visibly shrank.

"Look, Hayles, Kim asked me if Gypsy could come and I said yes so just leave it, will you? Do you two want a drink?" Will asked of Gypsy and Kim.

"Thanks, Will." Kim smiled at him gratefully as Gypsy looked in puzzlement at her ex, taken aback by his matter-of-fact attitude and momentarily stunned into silence.

Jack put the stereo back on and within seconds most people had forgotten the disruption and gone back to partying. Hayley however was still glaring at Gypsy and Gypsy, knowing it would infuriate her all the more, was smiling innocently back.

"Hayles…" Kim began.

"I don't ever want to speak to you again. You're disgusting! With her? You've well and truly blown any chance you ever had with me, Kim Hyde. I just hope she was worth it!" Hayley spat.

"Hayley, I swear I haven't slept with Gypsy!" Kim thought it wiser not to add he probably would have done if they hadn't been interrupted. He looked up in sudden hope as her words sank in. "Do you mean I stood a chance?"

"Maybe but not if you're with _her!" _Hayley shuddered in disgust.

"It was only a bit of fun for both of us!" Kim protested "I'll end it. I'll end it right now. Will that make things okay?"

"Might do." Hayley shrugged and turned her back on Kim, who trudged off, head down, to collect his drink from Will.

"Can you believe it? I went to Will's room to see if he was there and he's in bed with _that!" _Hayley fumed to Cassie and Martha.

"No, I can't," Cassie admitted truthfully, shocked that nobody seemed to be considering anyone else's feelings.

"How could you let her come, Will?" Hayley demanded furiously of her brother.

"People move on, Hayles." Will sighed. "You're young, you'll..."

"You should have told me. You're my brother! You're _family!" _Hayley gave Will a look that nobody else could fathom as she stormed off

"And _you_ should have told _me_." Martha's voice was quiet but there was no mistaking the hurt in her eyes she looked at Jack, her face ashen. "You knew about Kit, didn't you?"

"I didn't think it was a big issue," Jack whispered, unable to meet her gaze.

"Hayley's my friend." Martha spoke in a low, trembling voice. "If you don't care for my friends then you don't care for me." The tears she'd been trying to hold back suddenly hit. He didn't love her after all! How could he lover her if he didn't care? She ran from the room, devastated by Jack's second betrayal.

Cassie picked up the drink she had left behind earlier and looked uncertainly down at it, switching the glass from hand to hand, feeling gawky and awkward, wondering what to do. Everyone must be staring at her, waiting for her lead. And she didn't have a clue how to behave. She wasn't used to friends, parties, being with people her own age. Was she expected to laugh, carry on like nothing had happened, yell at someone? Really she wanted to go after Martha to see if she was okay, but if she did that would Hayley get mad? And if she went to see Hayley first would Martha be even more upset? Cassie's was burning up with embarrassment and convinced she could hear the first whispers of _Crazy Cassie. _

Then, to her enormous relief, the decision was made for her.

"I'll go talk to Martha." Jack hurried after his girlfriend.

"And I'd best go talk to Hayley," Will decided.

Left suddenly alone, Cassie sighed deeply and downed her drink in one gulp.

"Fancy another?"

A male voice broke into her thoughts and she looked up to see Kane Philips brandishing a bottle of vodka, an amused smirk on his face. He must have been watching the whole thing, she realised.

And she was on her own. She'd always pictured Martha being with her when she got her first real boyfriend, Martha telling her what to do, how to be. But Mac would be proud of her now, she was sure. She was coping. She beamed her best smile and he flashed her a look with those incredibly caring sparkling blue eyes which made shivers run through her whole body.

Grinning, Kane filled her glass with a liberal measure of vodka.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

_**written by Skykat**_

_**edited by I love music**_

****

_**Couples**_

_**  
**_  
"Go away, Jack Holden!"

Jack had no idea how she could possibly know he was even there when she had her back to him. "Martha please let me explain..."

"What's to explain? You knew Gypsy was going to be here. You knew Kit was going to be here. You know how Hayley feels about Noah and Kit and how she feels about Gypsy. You know how _I_ feel about you hurting my friend's feelings. You know how _I_ feel about Gypsy after what Gypsy did to you and me. But you still didn't think it was worth telling me they were all going to be here."

Martha turned to face him and he was stricken by guilt to see the tears streaking down her face, her make-up ruined. He'd broken her heart. The last thing in the world he ever wanted to do was break Martha's heart. Long ago he had told himself he would never allow himself to fall in love. And he'd done so well, dated so many girls, moved on as soon as things looked like getting serious. But he hadn't known you didn't control love, love controlled you. Love took you and shook you and changed your world and you thought you were resisting, but you didn't know anything about it.

Not until the girl you loved looked at you with tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, Martha. I just didn't want to upset you."

"Well, you have. You could have warned me, at least stopped me looking a fool!" Martha wiped her hands across her face, gulped back the tears and made a huge effort to speak although her voice wavered. "Hayley said I forgave you too quickly for Gypsy. That's why I was so upset with you last night."

She smiled sadly. His eyes shone with his own tears and it was so hard to hurt him like this. But she had to be strong. Jack didn't mean to do what he did but he couldn't help himself. He might be remorseful now but what happened next time a pretty girl made a play for him? Because there _would_ be a next time. Jack wasn't the settling down type. He'd said so himself. And what was a relationship without trust?

"This morning I thought maybe I was making a big deal over nothing. But I was wrong."

"But I thought we were over the Gypsy thing! I thought we were good?"

"Couples don't lie to each other, Jack. If you really cared about me, you'd have told me." She spoke quietly, with dignity. The tears had begun anew, tiny sparkling tears falling rapidly, but Martha left them unchecked.

"But I _do_ care about you, Martha! That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to hurt you." He gently touched her shoulder, longing to take her in his arms, to soothe her, but she pushed him away, sobbing uncontrollably now.

"No. It's pretty obvious to me that you don't really care at all. I tried so hard to forgive you, Jack, but I can't. The fact of the matter is that I don't trust you any more. You've cheated on me and now you're lying to me."

"Martha, there's no need to do this!" Jack protested.

"Yes, there is. Just leave me alone, Jack. Forever."

Wrapping her arms round herself, feeling colder than ice, Martha walked off, leaving Jack devastated.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How can you be happy about this situation, Will?" Hayley was pacing her bedroom and throwing things about her in a fury. "Gypsy treated you like dirt. How can you forget that?"

"Because it's ancient history, Hayles. I'm over it, I've moved on. I like someone else now and Gypsy's nothing to me. You need to get over it too."

"Huh! After what she did to you? I'll _never_ get over it! Nobody in their right minds would ever get over it! Why didn't you warnme about that...that black widow creature coming to my party?"

"It's my party too, Hayles," Will pointed out mildly. "Anyway, I didn't think it was that important."

"Well, it is. Who else have you invited that you haven't bothered to tell me about because you didn't think it was that important? Kylie Minogue? President Bush? Osama Bin Laden maybe?" Hayley almost choked with disbelief as Will's cheeks flushed bright red and he looked away guiltily. "Will? Who else _have_ you invited?"

"I said Noah could bring Kit," he whispered.

"You did WHAT?" Hayley looked about to explode and Will backed away.

"Noah said he wouldn't come without her and he's one of my best mates, I wanted him here, and Kit's a great girl. I'm sure you'd like her if you gave her a chance."

Will knew instantly that he'd said the wrong thing when Hayley screamed and a bottle of baby pink nail varnish came flying towards his head. He ducked and just managed to avoid it. "Are you crazy?"

"Just get out of my sight NOW before I throw something else and this time _I WON'T MISS!" _Hayley threatened, frantically looking round for whatever else she could lay her hands on.

Will did as he was told. Years of experience had taught him that when Hayley was in a temper it was wise to get out of the line of fire as quickly as possible. He dreaded to think what other objects were hurled after him as several heavily-sounding items thudded against the door the moment he closed it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hayley sank down to her bed and put her head in her hands. Everything had gone wrong. First Martha had worn _that_ dress and then _Gypsy_ had turned up with _Kim_ and now she heard Noah was bringing the Hunter freak with him. What else was going to happen? The party of the year was turning into a complete disaster!

She stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was beautiful. She was, she was. No matter what they took, no one could ever take that away from her. At the end of the day, she looked better than farm girl Martha, she was far more attractive than Kit Hunter, than any other girl in Summer Bay High, and Kim was willing to dump Gypsy _I'm-Anybody's_ Nash for her. Quickly she reapplied her make-up and smoothed down her dress. It was her party and nobody was going to spoil it for her.

Pasting on her best smile she left her bedroom.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hayles, are you okay?"

Cassie looked at her, concerned. Hayley was about to snap back a sarcastic comment at the dag when she caught sight of who Cassie was with.

"Kane! Hi. Glad you could make it, help yourself to food and drink." Hayley smiled her very best hostess smile. "Cass, can I just have a private word with you please?"

"Of course," Cassie smiled warmly back and handed her glass to Kane. "What's up?"

"Will just told me that Noah's bringing Kit Hunter to the party with him. Can you believe he didn't tell me?" Hayley demanded indignantly.

"Really? That's awful!" Cassie's voice was sympathetic but inside she was squirming with guilt.

"Isn't it? You know how much I hate people keeping things from me. Especially my friends." Hayley put her hands on her hips and looked directly at Cassie. "You knew, didn't you?"

"No, I…" Cassie was completely taken aback that Hayley had rumbled her.

"Don't lie to me. You tripped yourself up when you said Gypsy had come with Noah. You thought I was angry about _Kit_ being here. Do you think I'm _completely stupid, _Cassie?"

"Hayles, I swear I'd only just found out! We didn't get a chance to…"

_"We? _So Martha was in on this as well? Some friends you two turned out to be!"

"Hayles, I'm so sorry. Mac wanted to tell you, but I said no because we didn't know for certain and..."

"I don't care! I'm very disappointed in you, Cassie. I've gone out of my way to help you fit in at Summer Bay High and this is how you repay me! I could have let everyone laugh at you like they laugh at all the other uglies, but I didn't, did I? Luckily for you I need your help and you owe me." Hayley glared at Cassie, daring her to argue back.

"What do you want me to do?" Cassie mumbled miserably, stung by the remark. But Hayley was mad at her, and rightly so, she told herself. And, anyway, she _was_ ugly, she always had been. Hayley was only stating the facts.

"When Noah gets here I want you to get rid of the Kit-Kat so I can make my move on him. And you better not fail me, Cassie Turner," Hayley warned, her voice dark.

"I won't. I promise." Cassie sighed, and bit her lip. She hadn't known having friends would be like this. She'd thought having friends meant more than having someone to hang out with. She'd though having friends meant having someone to laugh with, confide in, listen to, having someone you'd always be there for and who'd always be there for you. But it seemed to be all about scoring points.

"You best go find Martha and tell her the plan," Hayley instructed.

"Right. I'll go now." Cassie disappeared in a flash, pleased to have got off the hook so easily.

Hayley watched her disappear and then smiled to herself. So Cassie thought she was forgiven, did she? Well, payback hadn't even started! She'd soon learn nobody lied to Hayley Smith and got away with it!

Tossing back her long golden hair, she headed back to where Kane Philips stood alone drinking and watching the other partygoers with a condescending sneer as though he had far better things to do with his time.

"I'm afraid Cassie had to go someplace, Kane. Will I do instead?" She giggled.

He regarded her with the usual smirk,

"Vodka?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, unperturbed by the sudden absence of the girl he'd been about to hit on. One chick was very much like another. As long as they were hot, that was all that mattered.

"Wouldn't say no." Hayley flashed him a gleaming smile as he poured her a drink.

'_To Cassie Turner' _she said under her breath, before downing the whole lot.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

_**written by Skykat**_

_**edited by I love music**_

_**Break Ups**_

"Hey Mac, _there_ you are!" It had taken Cassie a good ten minutes of searching the darkness around the vast grounds of the Smith residence before she finally found her friend. Martha sat huddled alone under a tree, her knees drawn to her chin, hugging herself, and seeming a million miles away as she looked out across the twinkling lights of the pretty harbour below.

"Martha?" Cassie said gently, when there was no response.

Martha looked up at her friend. Her eyes were red, her make-up was smeared across her face and her hair looked like she'd run her fingers through it several times - always, Cassie knew, a sign she was very upset.

"Oh, Mac! It's Jack, isn't it?" Heartbroken, Cassie sat down beside her and put her arm round her shoulders. "You guys always fight, but it doesn't last, you know it doesn't. It'll all be okay again by tomorrow, honest it will."

Martha shook her head. "Not this time, Cass. This time it's over for good. I've cried enough tears over Jack Holden."

"No way!" Cassie protested. "You were made for each other. You look so good together, everyone says so."

"Looking good together counts for nothing. No, I've made up my mind, Cass. Don't try and talk me round. Not this time. Please?"

"Guess," Cassie said reluctantly. "My gran always said no man is worth your tears and the one who is will never make you cry."

Martha smiled through the misty veil of tears that had just brimmed into her line of vision. "That is so true! How did you get to be so wise, Cass? How do you always know what to say?"

Cassie flushed to the roots of her hair, amazed anyone could think her wise, and not wanting to claim false credit. "Well, I never said it first, Gran did. I think she got in from a book, by Maeve Binchy or someone, but I don't think _they_ said it first either, it might have been written by a famous poet, I dunno, or it could have been..."

"Cass, you dill! Does it matter?" Martha was laughing now. She determinedly wiped away the last of her tears. "And I'll show Jack Holden!"

"I take it I can I drag you back into the party then?" Cassie laughed back.

She'd have loved Martha and Jack to make up but for now she was just overwhelmingly relieved to see her smiling again. She hated her best - no, her _only_ - friend to be upset. Mac had always been there for her right from her very first day at Summer Bay High when, terrified and alone, hearing the first of the mocking giggles, Cassie had been trying in vain to make sense of the school noticeboard and her confusing timetable and Martha had broken away from the crowd to offer her help. That one simple act had changed everything. For the first time in her life, Cassie had been accepted. She'd never forget Martha's kindness.

"What do you reckon?" Martha grinned. "I'm going to party till I drop!" She sighed and pushed back her long, dark glossy hair. "I must look an absolute state though."

"No worries. We'll climb in through a back window and you can sort yourself out before you face anyone." Cassie suggested.

"Thanks, Cass, you're a great mate," Martha smiled gratefully.

"Don't thank me too soon," Cassie warned, remembering her errand. "I've gone and landed us both in it with Hayley. Will told her about Kit and she figured out that we already knew. It's okay though, she needs our help to get Kit out of the way so she can make her move on Noah. She needs us so that means we're out of the dog house."

"I guess that's not too bad then." Martha linked her arm through Cassie's and the two headed back inside.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So Kane, where did you live before the Bay?" Hayley persevered with her conversation though it was an uphill struggle. Getting more than a one word answer out of Kane Phillips was like getting blood out of a stone. And he was still wearing that stupid smirk.

"Around." He took another swig of vodka and surveyed the room. The party was full of so many annoying people, silly, self-obsessed people like the blonde bimbo trying to talk to him at the moment. Kane was bored with these small town hicks.

But he had come anyway. He had come to see _her_. The only person in this small town who had really interested him, the first girl in a long line of flings that he had wanted. Like _really_ wanted. Until recently she and Jack Holden had been joined at the hip and, while normally he didn't give a damn about muscling in, Holden was one of very few people he had time for. But the news on the grapevine was that they had split and this prissy party had been far too good an opportunity to miss.

Because there was something about Martha McKenzie. She had attitude, she had spunk. He had only seen little glimpses of it up to now but he was determined to see more. It was a shame though because apart from a few glimpses of her at the beginning she had been missing practically most of the night.

He looked for her now but there was still no sign and the demonic blonde with the monster ego was seriously getting on his nerves. She was just asking to be bought down and Kane knew he'd take great delight in doing it.

"I mean, small towns are so boring and the people are just completely irritating. There's nothing to do round here, you just have to make your own fun, don't you?" She was fluttering her eyelashes now, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder, trying to catch his eye.

"Yeah. You do," Kane agreed, looking at her for the first time since she had tried to drag him into her inane conversation.

"I bet you know how to have fun, don't you?" She ran her hand lightly down his arm and Kane smiled to himself. Did she honestly think guys fell for this sort of thing? Actually take that back, these small town pretty boys probably did go for that sort of thing. This was going to be far too easy.

"How about we go outside, where it's a bit more private and we can make our own fun?" He suggested.

Hayley turned on a beaming smile but she was disappointed. This wasn't how it was meant to work. Cassie was meant to walk back in to see Kane kissing her and that couldn't happen if they were outside.

"Why don't we just stay here?" Her eyes flickered towards the door. A typically gorgeous looking Noah had just entered with Kit on his arm and, boy, did she look a state! All thoughts of Cassie and Kane went straight from Hayley's mind.

"Well if you're not interested…." Kane began walking away.

She quickly caught hold of his arm. "No wait! I _am_ interested, it's just that I have to be boring and play hostess right now. Later, yeah, when the party gets going a bit, yeah?"

"Sure thing, Princess." He winked, smirked and sauntered off and Hayley smiled, pleased with herself. That was Cassie set up for payback and Martha would be next. It was time to turn her attention to Noah because at the end of the day getting him back was really all that counted.

She walked briskly over to where Noah and Kit stood chatting and smiled brightly.

"Hi, Noah, Kit, glad you could make it." Hayley was aware that practically everyone in their immediate proximity was looking at her in amazement. "Help yourself to food and drink. I really like what you're wearing, Kit." Kit's mouth dropped open and Hayley congratulated herself on keeping a straight face.

"Thanks," she managed and Hayley smiled sweetly. Kit really was a tool, as if someone with Hayley's fashion sense would ever think that that little frump looked good! At least Noah was taken in by it, he was smiling at her and Hayley returned his smile with genuine warmth.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cassie and Martha approaching. "Excuse me please." She politely took her leave and headed off in the direction of her friends, leaving Noah and Kit baffled.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where the hell have you two been?" Hayley demanded, under her breath, so no one rumbled her act.

"Sorry, we were just…" Cassie began.

"I don't care what you were just! You need to get over there and start sucking up to that creep Hunter."

"What?" Martha asked, astonished.

"You heard. I've just been over there being all nicey nice and now you two have to do the same. It's the only way we'll ever get Flat-Face to leave Noah's side. You need to win her trust and, when you do, find a way of getting her to the west wing bathroom. There's the key, lock her in, and don't forget to tell her where the razors are stored in case she wants to do us all a favour and end things. Now _go!" _She added, as Cassie and Martha stared at her.

Martha shrugged at Cassie and they at last made off in the direction of Kit.

"Dorks," Hayley muttered impatiently, looking round the room and grinning as she caught sight of her next target. She made a beeline to where Gypsy was flirting with a random assortment of guys. Small, tall, fat, thin, Gypsy wasn't fussy, Hayley disdainfully observed.

"Um...Gyps, could I have a word?" Hayley asked as she joined the group.

"You mean you're actually capable of speaking without your little crew to back you up?" Gypsy sarcastically feigned being overcome, pressing a hand to her forehead and pretending to swoon.

Choosing to ignore the comment and gesture _(Oh, you got it coming and good, Nash, just you wait!) _Hayley moved away slightly, gesturing for Gypsy to follow.

"This should be fun," Gypsy shrugged to her amused admirers. "Don't go anywhere, will you, boys? I'm pretty sure I'll have some boredom to wear off once I'm done talking to her." Grinning flirtatiously at them she followed Hayley to a quiet corner of the room.

Hayley got straight to the point. "Look, Gypsy, I just want to call a truce and draw a line under things, alright? Will's forgiven you and I guess if he's moved on then I should too. The last thing he needs is his new girlfriend getting caught up in rows with you." It was all she could do to hold back a smile as Gypsy's face fell.

"Who's Will's new girlfriend?" she asked in a casual tone which didn't fool Hayley for a second.

"Her name's Dani, she'll be here in a bit. She's lovely, really gorgeous, and just perfect for Will sooo I just wanted to tell you I've moved on and you should too."

"Is that right?" Gypsy smiled just as sweetly back, well aware that this was all intended to wind her up. "So does that mean you're okay with Kim and me then?"

"Kim can do what he likes, he's nothing to do with me. The only guy you could possibly hurt me by going for would be Noah and he's with Kit so I doubt he'd look twice at you."

"Or you," Gypsy retorted.

"Maybe, but that's for me to worry about. You stay away from Noah and we'll be just fine. Oh, and Jack too, him and Martha are back on track and you need to stay away from them because if you ever go after my friend's guy again I'll take it personally!" Hayley warned.

"Really?" Gypsy raised an eyebrow.

"Really." Hayley confirmed, turning her back on Gypsy. She was grinning as she walked away. It had gone even better than she'd hoped.

If she had calculated right, and she was pretty sure she had, Gypsy would go straight for the two guys Hayley had warned her off thus ensuring the break-up of Noah and Kit and Hayley's revenge on Martha. Not bad for a half hour's work, she thought gleefully, as she picked up a glass and made a silent toast to herself.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

_**written by Skykat**_

_**edited by I love music**_

****

_**The Games People Play**__**  
**_  
"So you've got three brothers and one sister, Kit? That's a big family, bet there's a mad fight for the bathroom every morning! Don't you wish we could all have big beautiful houses like Hayley? I know I wish I did, she's so lucky!"

Cassie felt so fake. She was rambling, she knew she was, and she was fairly certain that the other girl could see right through her but Hayley was permanently watching while pretending not to so Cassie kept up the act. Oh, God, it was so tough trying to fit in! Why did everyone want revenge? Why couldn't they let bygones be bygones?

In truth, she had no axe to grind with Kit Hunter. Unlike Hayley's friends, Kit was straight, she had no sides to her, and Cassie admired that, she would even have enjoyed talking to her if she hadn't _had_ to. And being someone she didn't want to be was making her anxious, she kept nervously tapping her fingers against the side of her glass and she could have died of embarrassment when she realised Kit had noticed.

"So what's all this suddenly being nice to me about?" Kit demanded suspiciously. "Because I'm not stupid, you know."

Flummoxed, Cassie helplessly exchanged a look with Martha, who decided that honesty was the best policy. At least bits of honesty were. Martha was as uncomfortable with the whole set up as Cassie was, but she was from a small farming village, and nobody knew anything out in the sticks, Hayley had informed her. If this was the way to become sophisticated so be it.

"Look, Hayley never liked you because of Noah and as her friends we couldn't exactly hang out with you, could we? But she has her eye on someone else now so she's decided there's no point in holding a grudge. That means Cassie and I are finally free to talk to you," Martha explained, thinking that part the truth was far more believable than the pretence Hayley had ordered.

"Who's she got her eye on?" Kit asked curiously.

"We don't know, she's keeping it a secret." It wasn't that Cassie had quickly caught on to what Martha was doing. She genuinely believed and hoped that Hayley was maybe interested in another guy and this would be the last time they ever had to play such a sick joke.

"So does your brother Scott like working on Granddad's boat then? Granddad always says he's a really good worker. He's pretty hot too," Martha deftly changed the subject.

Kit relaxed slightly. "If you like that sort of thing!" She smiled. "Yeah, he loves the boat. He always had a thing for nature, land, sea, he loves it all and he gets on pretty well with your Granddad too." She was still not entirely sure whether or not she trusted Hayley's friends but she caught Noah looking across and meeting her gaze he gave a big grin and raised his glass to her.

She knew he'd always hated that she didn't get on with Will's sister and Jack's girlfriend and Kit was determined that if they were making an effort then she would too. Not for _their_ sake, but for Noah's. He was, after all, the most important person in her world.

"I was thinking, Kit, I have the perfect shade of lipstick in the bathroom to match your top. Why don't you come with me and try it?" Martha suggested.

"No, thanks," Kit replied, a little too quickly.

"Sorry, I know we've been a bit nasty to you in the past but I just thought this would go some way to making amends. I really think it'd suit you," Martha persevered.

"Do you mean the one I think you mean, Mac? Yeah, Martha's right, it'd really suit you."

Cassie didn't want to do this. She really didn't. Things like this had been done to her. Amy Simpson and Gemma Hill had made her life hell back in her old school. It finally reached a peak when they'd shoved her into a pitch black cleaning cupboard with the mops and buckets and let her hammer on the door for a good fifteen minutes before opening it suddenly and cruelly taking a photo of her, red-faced and dishevelled, that did the rounds of several mobiles before it came to a teacher's attention. Cassie didn't want to press charges. She begged the principal and her Gran not to make an issue of it. Amy and Gemma had been suspended indefinitely and were in serious trouble. Cassie just wanted to go. Start again somewhere. She hadn't made much of an effort to fit in, she said, and she wanted to start afresh. She felt like she wanted out of the world after that horrible experience but she didn't tell them that.

She remembered walking from the school for the very last time with her head down, her throat raw from sobbing, even managing to feel guilty that all mobile phones had now been banned, just Cassie and her Gran, their footsteps echoing across the deserted schoolyard, feeling as though every single student was watching them from the classroom windows, burning their gazes into her back. She remembered the solitary tear trickling down her cheek as her Gran silently squeezed her hand and wondering what anyone could possibly get out of deliberately hurting other people and thinking she could never, ever be so cruel.

But she could and she was. "Noah will love you in it, Kit," she found herself saying.

"Noah's not _really_ a make-up kind of guy," Kit said reluctantly.

"Trust me, Kit, every guy loves a girl in make-up. Noah, you don't mind if we borrow Kit for girlie things, do you?" Martha called across to him.

"No, go ahead!" Noah urged with a smile. He looked stoked that she was getting on with Cassie and Martha and Kit felt silly for making such a fuss. She had a niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right but if it would please Noah then she would do it.

"Go on then," she replied quietly, soaking up Noah's beautiful reassuring smile, the same smile that made her knees weak, as she allowed herself to be pulled along with Cassie and Martha.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Gyps, can I have a word please?" Kim's heart pounded against his chest as he desperately tried to drag her attention away from the crowd of men surrounding her.

"Bit busy now, Kimmy," she replied airily, in a _shoo-little-boy_ kind of voice.

"Gypsy, we have to talk," Kim insisted. Gypsy rolled her eyes but stood up nonetheless.

"Well, that'd be a first, us _talking! _I didn't think you were capable of communicating with me on a non-physical level."

"This has to stop."

Kim tried his best to sound firm but his shakiness showed in his voice. He hated the way Gypsy only had to look at him, the way she was now, with those melting eyes and that sexy, pouting smile. If her fingers stroked his skin, he'd back out. She knew all the places where even the slightest touch sent delicious tingles throughout his body and made him fall completely under her spell.

"What, you embarrassing me in public?" Gypsy glanced over his shoulder at the guy she had just been chatting up, gave him a _catch-you-later_ wink and licked her lips provocatively.

"You know what I mean. You and me. It's no good, it has to end."

"What?" Gypsy gave Kim her full attention as realisation of what was about to happen suddenly hit. "Felt good to me," she added, keeping her voice nonchalant.

"It's too complicated, Gyps, being with you, I'm not sure it's worth the risk." Kim could not meet her eye, and, knowing her power over him, perhaps it wasn't a good idea to. He anxiously twisted his fingers round one another, steadfastly refusing to look at her.

"Hayley you mean? Little Miss Princess has had a word in your ear about how she'll get with you if you finish with me?" Kim started guiltily, amazed by her perception and she moved in for the kill. "Can't you see you're being used? Do you really think if you end things with me that Hayley will fall into your arms? Look at her, staring at Noah! Do you really think she'd give you a second glance?"

"She meant it, I could tell. I have to try, don't I?" Kim looked forlorn, his expression pleading with her not to make this more difficult for him than it already was.

Gyspy actually found herself feeling sorry for the poor, deluded boy standing in front of her. Almost. Falling for Hayley made him completely stupid and therefore deserving of everything he got.

"You're deluding yourself, Kimmykims. By all means, end things with me if that's what you want, _I_ don't care either way - but you better not come running back when you realise she's taken you for an idiot," Gypsy snapped. She hated being dumped, Gypsy saw herself as the dumper not the dumpee and she was desperate to turn things around.

"Please don't be angry, Gypsy. It's just the way things are."

"I'm not angry, Kim. I think you're pathetic but it's your loss. Now go, run along to Princess Hayley, you think I care? You see, for me it was all about the sex and I'm sure I can find someone better in bed than you promised to be. I wonder if you'll be able to manage the same thing?" With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Kim watched her leave, shaking and confused, and still wondering if he had done the right thing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hi Noah, have you got enough to drink?" Hayley had waited a few minutes after Martha and Cassie had disappeared with Kit and now she approached him, determined to put her plan into action.

"I'm good thanks, Hayley," he replied warily.

"Look, I know things have been a bit difficult these past few weeks and I've been a bit of a bitch…" Hayley demurely twirled a strand of blonde hair round her fingers and looked him straight in the eye. He was so gorgeous, even when he looked at her with disgust he still did things to her inside that nobody else could do.

"That's an understatement." Noah wondered where this was going.

"Well, I just wanted to say that it's all in the past now. I want us to move on, go back to how things were." Hayley moved closer. "Won't you give me a second chance?"

"Do you deserve one?" Noah was suspicious, she seemed genuine enough and she had been nice to Kit earlier so maybe she _was_ for real. Except that Hayley was Hayley.

"Maybe not, but I _am_ trying hard to put things right."

Noah had to admit that much was true. "Okay, you get a second chance but no more mind games, Hayles, please? I'm so sick of them."

"For real? You're giving _us_ a second chance?" Hayley's face lit up, her eyes regained their sparkle and she visibly seemed to grow.

"I said so, didn't I?" Noah was taken aback by her enthusiastic reaction, more so when she suddenly squealed and fell into his arms, hugging him tightly. He self-consciously patted her back, whilst delicately trying to free himself from her vice-like grip.

"Oh, Noah, thank you! I've missed you so much! Things are going to be so good, I promise. I'll never let you down again."

"Right, yeah." Noah was trying politely to disentangle her.

"Kit'll get over it soon enough, she'll just have to accept it. I always knew you couldn't really love her." Hayley was still prattling.

"What?" Noah made another attempt to disentangle himself.

"Kit. She might be angry at first, that's natural, but she'll soon come to realise that you and me are meant to be now you've given me a second chance." Realisation started to dawn and Noah pushed Hayley away from him.

"Hayley, what are you talking about? I gave you a second chance as my friend, not as anything else. You honestly think you can just apologise and I'll drop everything for you?"

"But we're meant to be together!" Hayley was on the verge of tears.

"You're kidding yourself, Hayles. I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be, but I love Kit."

"You don't mean that! You can't! I mean, she's so plain and she wears such weird clothes…"

As Noah looked at her, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time as she really was. A sad, pathetic, lonely little girl and he'd have felt sorry for her if he hadn't been so mad.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you? You're the most selfish, childish, self-centred person who ever walked this Earth and Kit is a million times the woman you'll ever be. I'd be delighted if I never saw you again." Pushing her aside, Noah moved angrily off.

"Noah!" Hayley called desperately, but Noah was already storming over to where Martha and Cassie were watching proceedings.

"Where's Kit?

"She's…"

"Tell me where she is, you pair of spineless bitches!" Noah was absolutely furious and Cassie and Martha were both a little scared.

"In the bathroom," Cassie replied guiltily. Noah pushed past them.

"You might need the key," Martha whispered, feeling utterly ashamed of herself.

Noah snatched the key out of her hand and looked at them both with a look of utter contempt. Quickly Cassie and Martha moved out of his reach, towards were Hayley stood, sobbing in the kitchen.

"You okay, Hayles?" Cassie asked.

"What the hell do you think?" She snapped.

"Hayley, I did it! Gypsy and I are over!" Kim raced excitedly into the kitchen, but one look at Hayley confirmed that she did not share his excitement.

"Good for you! But you think there's any way I'd touch _you? _You're a pathetic little loser, Kim Hyde, always have been. You're nothing but a pathetic puppy dog, always following me around, doing everything I say. Now run along, Puppy Dog, go back to the Crab Queen."

Hayley turned on her heel and marched away, leaving Kim devastated.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

_**written by Skykat**_

_**edited by I love music**_

**(sighs) so many hits and no reviews :(**

****

_**Meltdown  
**_  
Noah was several feet away from the bathroom when a loud bang caused the whole of the west wing corridor to vibrate and took him abruptly back to being eleven years old, the rainy afternoon he and two mates had cut school to watch a horror movie on DVD. In the movie, the loud bang had heralded the arrival of Beelzebub and rivers of blood running down the walls, it was quickly followed by rapid response loud banging and malevolent eyes peering through the rich red blood. What happened next, Noah and his friends never knew, their screams of abject terror from behind the couch bringing a neighbour, subsequent discovery and a week's grounding for cutting school and the DVD. Thankfully, this time the rapid response loud banging that followed did not bring with it malevolent eyes and rivers of blood. But what it did bring was disturbing enough.

Someone furiously, crazily, desperately, screaming, shouting, kicking, thudding.

"Kit! Kit, it's Noah! I've got the key, just stop throwing things, hey?" He breathlessly inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

Kit sprang instantly to her feet. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears and, red with fury, she pushed him aside with so much force that Noah almost lost his balance, regaining it just in time to prevent her from leaving the bathroom.

He pushed her back inside and shut the door, leaning his back against it and blocking them both in.

"Let. Me._**OUT!"** _Kit seethed through clenched teeth, her eyes wild, dancing around him like a whirling dervish.

"Not until you calm down," Noah said gently. He touched her arm, the lightest of touches, but it was enough to make Kit explode.

"I'm going to _Kill Them!" _She launched herself at the door again like a mini tornado.

But this time Noah was prepared. He caught her in his arms, trapping her with his strength, so that, try as she might, she could not get free. She kicked and fought desperately against his grip but he was far too strong.

"It's okay, Kit, it's okay." Noah soothed, stroking her hair as, exhausted, she broke down and fell into his arms, sobbing huge, angry tears on his shirt. Her whole body heaved and Noah felt that right at that moment he could have killed those responsible for hurting her like this.

"It's not okay." Kit whispered, when at last she could draw breath again, albeit shaky, sob-filled breath. "They pretended to be my friends. I only went along with them to please you!" She rained small angry punches on his chest as she spoke, not enough to inflict pain, but enough so that he felt them.

"I know and I'm sorry. I promise I'll never doubt you again. Kit, I'm so sorry. Am I forgiven? Please?" Noah tenderly cupped her face in his hands, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"Noah, what do you see in me, honestly?" she asked forlornly. "I'm plain and frumpish and boring and...

"Sshh, shhh." Noah gently wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "That's not true. That is so not true. I see a gorgeous, beautiful, beautiful, gutsy girl with a heart of gold who I love with all my heart. Even when she's crying she still looks gorgeous."

"Now I _know_ you're lying!" Her statement was accompanied by a smile and Noah smiled too, relieved that her anger was finally abating.

"Maybe I won't kill them after all. How do you feel about me inflicting some form of horrific maiming instead?" Kit's lips twitched. "Just so's they know I have a heart of gold?"

Noah laughed out loud. "Oh Kit you're priceless! Anyway I think I deserve some sympathy too. While you were venting your anger in here I was being mauled so don't I deserve some TLC?"

Kit looked at him blankly.

"Queen Piranha," Noah supplied. "She had her witches-in-waiting lock you in the dungeons so that she could make her move on me."

"I knew it! I just _knew _she had to be behind it, Martha and Cassie can't think for themselves! I'm going to kill her!" Kit fumed.

"Can't you kiss me better first?" Noah asked, using the best way knew how of diverting her attention. Kit had no qualms about obliging. She kissed him, gently at first, and then more passionately.

"I'm still planning to rearrange her face, you know." She came up briefly for air.

"I wouldn't expect any less," Noah replied, as they both gave in to their kisses.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dani, hi!"

For some time now, Will had been hovering around the main door, having arranged look-outs on the side doors by bribing them with cash (under strict instructions that they were to text him immediately there was any development and were under penalty of death if they deserted their posts) waiting for her to arrive. He had almost given up hope but finally she was here and she was well and truly worth the wait, he thought, as he openly looked her up and down.

"You quite finished?" Dani's demanded icily.

"S-sorry, it's j-just, you look so...so..._stunning," _Will stuttered.

Dani smiled, slightly mollified by his glowing admiration. "Well, anyway, sorry I'm late! There was a bit of a row going off at home. Still, it doesn't do to arrive at parties early, does it?" She brushed her long chestnut hair behind her shoulders.

"Not a serious row, I hope?"

Will could not help but stare at her, transfixed. She was so beautiful. So perfect. He would be the envy of every guy here, when he finally talked her into going out with him. And he would. What chick could resist the Will Smith charm?

Dani shrugged dismissively. "Oh, the usual. My social worker Mum fighting with Dad over her wanting to counsel the latest troubled headcase in town and the twin kid sisters, well the twin kid sisters being the twin kid sisters."

"You should try having Hayley for a sis!" Will grinned. "I'm sooo glad you could make it though." He looked into her beautiful sexy eyes and she held his gaze, making him want to punch the air and yell _"Wowee! Instant chemistry!" _But somehow he managed to stay calm though his heart was thudding fit to burst through his ribs. "Can I get you a drink, Dani?"

Dani nodded and followed him, both of them unaware that from across the room, hidden by shadows, Gypsy had watched their every move.

So Hayley had been telling the truth for once in her life. Will _was_ interested in someone new. The stuck-up bitch from behind the kiosk counter. Another spoilt little Princess who got everything she wanted. It was _her _fault that Will hadn't noticed her all night. Hadn't even looked in her direction. And she had made such an effort.

Dejectedly Gypsy sank down on to the couch. In her heart she knew that Dani wasn't really the reason Will had ignored her. The problem was Gypsy herself.

She had had everything with Will. For once in her life, she had had a real relationship with someone she loved and who loved her. Truly loved her, not lusted after her, or used her for sex, or as a trophy. Will had loved her for herself. He was the only person who ever had. Why had she thrown it all away?

Everyone at Summer Bay High thought they knew. Gypsy couldn't help herself, the rumour wheel spun, she was a slut, she got bored, they said, she was a gold digger, she always wanted something better. Obviously Will hadn't lived up to expectations in buying her expensive gifts like jewellery and perfume, they said, easy to see exactly what profession Gypsy would take up when she left school, they said, knowing everything about her.

They knew nothing.

She had loved him. She had loved every little thing about him, the way he laughed, the way he lazily stirred his coffee, the way he murmured in his sleep. She would have loved him had he been dirt poor and living in a wooden shack, she would have given up everything, her heart, her life, her soul, to be with him.

He was the only one who had ever cared enough to look deeper, to try and see beyond the shallow illusion of herself she portrayed to the world.

And so she had no choice but to betray him.

Because deep down she was flawed. Behind the make-up, sex and bravado, she had nothing to offer. Not striking Martha McKenzie looks, not the perfect Cassie Turner body, not even the Hayley Smith golden girl image. Loving someone had been both wonderful and terrifying. For the first time in her life Gypsy had been out of her depth with a man.

And Gypsy didn't deserve to be loved.

She had known she wasn't worth loving her but somebody had loved her. So she had done the only thing she knew how, she had destroyed it. Because once he saw the real Gypsy he would hate her and she couldn't cope with that. Better be cruel to be kind and give him his freedom.

Easier to break her own heart than have someone do it for her.

His anger and bitterness was better than having him see who she was. Anything was better than that.

Draining her glass of some strange tasting pink concoction in one gulp, she did what she always did when she felt down. She looked for an ego boost. Her eyes lighted on the one person she knew by hitting on she would seriously piss Princess Hayley off.

Picking up a beer from the open keg on the floor and refilling her own glass, no guy ever bothered, she shoved her way past the crowds towards Jack Holden.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hayley had downed more wine since Noah stormed off and she had let rip to Martha and Cassie about Kim. Her friends were saying lots of comforting things but what did they know? Who were they to talk to her about feelings?

Cassie _no bloke _Turner and Martha _my man prefers Gypsy _McKenzie. Just who were they to lecture Hayley Smith on boyfriends? Looking around the room, Hayley spotted something that, for the first time since Noah had stormed off, made her feel good about herself.

"Are you and Jack definitely over then?" She asked Martha, interrupting their mindless prattle.

"Who knows? Maybe it's just a tiff. We'll have wait and see." Martha gave Cassie a small smile, knowing she would be stoked to hear that. Her earlier anger had subsided and Martha was feeling a little calmer now. Maybe she _had_ overreacted over his fling with Gypsy.

"Would it help your decision if I told you that right at this very moment he has Gypsy sitting on his knee?" Hayley asked sweetly.

Martha's swung round in horror and Hayley gloatingly took another slow sip of wine.

Tears sprang immediately to Martha's eyes and she looked about to crumple.

"How could he, Cass?" She asked, broken.

Cassie put a comforting arm around her shoulders, whispering about how worthless he was and how wonderful Martha was and how she'd always be there for her. Stupid cow, with her big sympathetic eyes and vomit-worthy declarations of friendship, Hayley thought. Crazy Cassie was getting on her nerves even more than usual, if that were possible. She'd have loved to slap that freak's face. Why didn't Mac simply dump the dag?

Fortunately the means to get back at Cassie was heading in her direction. "Did I tell you that I tried to put in a good word for you with Kane, Cass?" She asked.

"Really?" Cassie's face lit up. "What did he say?"

"Well, I think, I'm almost certain, he has his eye on someone else. I'm sorry, Cass."

Hayley watched smugly as Cassie tried desperately hard not to let her feelings show and failed miserably, her act made all the more difficult as the very guy in question approached their threesome and Cassie blushed as though she were on fire. To Hayley's delight, the nervous tic had even started in Cassie's left eye.

"Fancy that walk I suggested earlier?" Kane asked of Hayley, after a quick, unfathomable glance in the direction of Martha and Cassie.

"It's not a good idea right now…" Hayley said off-handedly, too busy enjoying soaking up her triumph at bringing Cassie and Martha down.

"Go on, you're not scared of me? Is she, girls?" Kane taunted amusedly, his eyes fixed not on Hayley but on Martha and Cassie.

"Why should I be?" Hayley gave him her full attention. He was fit. No doubting that. She might as well have some fun. "Okay, why _not_ now? I need some fresh air anyway. Oh, Cass! Your label's showing." She added, pretending to fix Cassie's collar and leaning forward to whisper 'I'll try and talk him round for you'.

She was more than a little annoyed when she turned to find Kane Phillips engrossed in watching Martha's back as her friend poured herself another drink.

"Looks like it might rain," she said, trying to keep her voice level

"Yeh. It does." He flicked back his hair and glanced at her. "Do you melt?"

She giggled. Guys always liked you to laugh at their jokes, didn't they? "Not usually, but there's always a first time. I'll need a good-looking man to take care of me."

Hayley looked coyly up at him from under lowered eyelids and was disconcerted to find that he wasn't even looking at her again and when he did deign to look down it was only to regard her with his trademark smirk. He put his arm round her waist, a bit too controllingly, she thought, though she said nothing. This was all about paying Cassie back and so she went with him willingly.

But, unknown to her, he looked back as they approached the door, to where Martha and Cassie stood watching.

There was something about that look. It seemed to linger silently on the air even long after they'd gone.

For some strange reason, Martha was shivering.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

_**co-written by**_

_**Skykat & I love music**_

_**Impressions**_

"No _way_ do you like that movie!" Dani Sutherland sat back on the sofa, hands on hips, and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the boy who sat opposite.

"I do, I do!" Will insisted, while knowing he was protesting in vain. It was blatantly obvious she could see right through him but he so badly wanted to impress her.

"I tell you it's my favourite chick flick and suddenly it's your favourite movie? I never met a guy yet who liked it!"

Dani tried to look frosty, but against her will her lips twitched into a smile. She'd had serious doubts about coming here tonight. She hadn't been in Summer Bay long enough to know anyone, just a couple of days, but it had been long enough to make the usual quota of enemies. The red-head who'd shot the poisonous glares in the Diner for one. Trouble was, Dani made enemies easily and ironically none of it was her fault.

When she wasn't even trying, guys loved her and hence their girlfriends saw her as a threat. She'd been pretty damn sure, for instance, that the red-head would turn up tonight even though she hadn't seen her around to begin with. That type didn't give up easy. Dani had once had a chunk of hair pulled out by a jealous rival she didn't even know she had when Becky's boyfriend had been staring at Dani all night without Dani even knowing Lewis was. Despite everything though, including risking being frozen to death by the red-head's glares, she was glad she'd put in an appearance. Will was good fun. Easy to talk to and more than a little cute. And single. That was important. Dani had been doing a little digging while working behind the kiosk and discovered Will Smith was one hundred per cent over a certain Gypsy Nash. Dani had done nothing wrong and there was no way the ex could fly at her ready to scratch her eyes out. She hoped.

Will grinned back. He knew when he was beaten. Time to go for the honest approach. "Alright, I admit it, maybe I didn't like it _that_ much."

"I knew it!" Dani's expression was one of pure delight at having been proved right and Will's grin grew even broader. He loved this side to her, the feisty determination, the strong will, the fight. Just what he looked for in a girl.

Such thoughts automatically made him look in the direction of another girl. One with similar qualities. But looking at Gypsy now disgusted him. Shamelessly draped all over Holden and Holden was a fool for allowing her to be. Sure, Martha was Hayley's mate and a bit of a pain, but Jack was a fool if he dropped her for Gypsy. Gypsy only cared about herself.

Still it wasn't as if he hadn't warned him often enough. The guy knew what Gypsy was like so it was his funeral. In the meantime, the beautiful, sexy Dani Sutherland was looking expectantly at him.

"Alright! The movie totally sucked. But my sensitive side impressed you, didn't it?" Will turned on his most charming smile. The cheeky grin had got him his own way so many times.

"Nope! But just remind me to pick what we watch when we go the movies, alright?" She punched him playfully but Will's mind was fully focussed on her comment. He felt his mouth drop open in surprise and quickly recovered his composure, but inside he was cheering as though at a footie match.

"Was that an invitation?" He looked at her eagerly, too eagerly and he knew it, but he just couldn't help it. So much for being Mr Cool. Dani was smiling at him and his pulse rate increased rapidly.

"Would you like it to be?" Dani was well aware that Will liked her and she liked him too. But that didn't mean she was going to make things easy.

"Yeh, I reckon that'd be alright," Will replied calmly, inwardly patting himself on the back for regaining his coolness.

"Just alright?" She was teasing him. Her eyes were challenging him and, god damn her, she was gorgeous. Will instinctively moved closer to her, his fingers resting gently on her arm. He was desperate to touch her, to feel her soft skin.

"Well maybe more than alright."

The two were so close now that if Will moved just a fraction of an inch, he'd be kissing her. Her eyes were locked with his, inviting him, and Will edged forward.

_"Will!"_ Kim's voice suddenly cut through Will's head and destroyed the moment.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The party house overlooked the harbour below, where moonlight and lamplight were shimmering on the night-time river and lines of boats were bobbing gently on their moorings with rhythmic creaks. The pretty scene caught Hayley's attention only briefly. She had more important things on her mind.

"Sooo...Alone at last. Like they say in all the best corny movies."

Her giggle pierced the night air and she gave Kane a meaningful sideways glance, taking in his strong, manly features outlined by the soft moonlight. Then the smile abruptly left her face. He was standing here with the most beautiful girl in Summer Bay and he wasn't even _looking_ at her!

He was leaning against the old Victorian garden wall, his back, ramrod straight, his shoulders strong and square. Yet he looked so natural, so completely at ease. Hayley watched, fascinated in spite of herself, as he lit a cigarette and inhaled. Hayley despised smoking. The smell, the way it lingered on her clothes, in her hair. She hated the taste and that horrible, sickly feeling the morning after a cigarette the night before. Yet somehow when Kane was smoking he made it look sexy.

So when, barely moving or even looking at her, he offered her a cigarette, she accepted it and allowed him to light it for her. Placing it between her lips she took a slow drag and instantly coughed as the mix of tar and smoke filtered down her throat to her chest.

Quickly she glanced at him, just to be sure he hadn't heard her cough. She didn't want him thinking she was a sook! Everyone in Summer Bay High knew she wasn't but Kane was new to the neighbourhood and it wouldn't do for him to get the wrong idea. It wasn't as if it was her fault that she was getting a chest infection now, was it? To her relief, he hadn't noticed the cough. Then it suddenly dawned on her the reason why.

He was looking down at the harbour, at first she thought at the colourful decorative lamps that lit up the river and the crowds strolling among the bars and restaurants, until she realised his eyes were following a girl with a great figure and very little covering it.

"You're meant to be with me, not checking out other chicks," she said petulantly.

"You want me to look at you instead?" He turned to her and suddenly she wished he hadn't.

There was something in the way he turned. Maybe it was his voice. Or the coldness in his eyes, the slow smirk that crossed his face. But she pushed the unease to the back of her mind. Kane Phillips was a challenge and Hayley Smith enjoyed a challenge.

She allowed herself a small, self-satisfied smile but that same, almost sarcastic grin as he looked her slowly up and down almost weakened her resolve. Usually Hayley loved being appraised by guys. Most guys couldn't help themselves. But there was something about the way Kane Phillips looked. Like he was amused. Like he was mocking almost.

"Yeh. Not bad, I guess," he drawled.

She flinched involuntarily and he shrugged and turned away.

"Oh, well, if you don't wanna know after all..."

But there was something attractive, compulsive about the danger. And it'd be worth it, she told herself. Anything to see Cassie's face when she told her Kane said he had the hots for Hayley. In fact, she'd embellish it a little.

Cassie had really annoyed her tonight and needed a Hayley Smith ready-cooked put-down special. _"Cass, I'm sorry, I hate having to tell you this, but as your friend I think you should know. Kane laughed when I told him you were interested. He said you were a dingo, Cass, and it made him sick just to look at you..."_

Hayley's smile returned along with her confidence. "No!" She caught hold of his arm. "You and me, we're good together."

"We are?" His eyes flicked momentarily in the direction of Whitelady Copse, his intention clear. All she had to do was give her consent.

Hayley swallowed. Nobody actually said so but everybody knew. Whitelady Copse was where couples went when they wanted some privacy. Dark, hidden. Voices didn't carry from the copse. The wind and the sea and the trees whispered their secrets to each other there and told no one else.

It was a small, neglected area of land covered by thick bushes and trees, surrounding an abandoned restaurant, disused from the early sixties when it was realised that the dozens of steep, winding stone steps leading down to the end of the harbour could have killed many a potential diner before he or she sat down to dinner. It was rumoured Emma Taylor, who'd had to leave Summer Bay High suddenly last year, had got pregnant in the copse, though no one ever found out who the father was. It was a choice of two and Hayley, who owed Emma for upstaging her at the Xmas party, had enjoyed bagging out the slag.

Kane was grinning and a small warning voice rose inside her. But Hayley silenced it. She'd been eating guys for brekkie ever since kindy when Paul Evans had given her that sloppy wet kiss. There hadn't been any warning about the sloppy wet kiss. Neither was there any warning before Hayley furiously crashed the heel of her shoe down on Paul's foot. Oh, but the satisfaction when she saw the look in his eyes!

She'd seen that same look heaps of times in guys' eyes since. And she had never lost the thrill of her power over men. Kane Phillips was just another guy. _She'd_ decide _exactly_ what did and didn't happen in the Whitelady Copse.

She smiled and moved closer. "You know it."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So do you think I stand a chance with Kane?" Cassie asked hopefully.

Martha sucked in a breath and glared impatiently at her friend. She had been in the middle of ranting about just what on earth did Jack see in that whore Gypsy and Cassie was interrupting her to ask about Kane! She turned to Cassie, eyes blazing, ready to vent. But the look on Cassie's face stopped her dead.

Her friend looked so young. So vulnerable. Martha suddenly didn't have the heart to yell at her.

"Sure you do! Hayley's putting in a good word for you isn't she?"

"Yeh, she said she was but…" Cassie shrugged and hugged herself for reassurance.

"You cold, Cass?" Martha asked gently, like she'd ask a child.

They had moved outside, mainly to get away from the sickening sight of Gypsy and Jack pashing, but they hadn't ventured far from the Smith residence. It was a calm summer night with just a hint of damp in the air. Crickets chirped and a soft breeze lazily rustled through the trees. The moon was half hidden behind the veil of dark clouds that almost obscured the sky but here and there a handful of stars had found gaps and were glistening brightly against the blackness.

"No, I'm okay. Just thinking." Cassie seemed engrossed in the glass she was holding. "I wonder why Hayley wanted to go for a walk with Kane? Couldn't she just have talked to him inside?"

"Maybe she just wanted to speak to him out of your gaze, make you feel less weird about it." Martha knew she was fishing for excuses. She wasn't exactly sure _what_ Hayley was up to but she had a bad feeling about it. Hayley could be both nasty and vindictive and her game playing was second to none.

Cassie however seemed happy enough to accept her friend's answers. She looked up, the ghost of a smile lighting up her pretty face. "Yeh, you're right. I'm just being a dag. I hope she _does_ put in a good word for me."

"You know something, Cass?" Martha smiled fondly. "Thinking about it, you don't really need a good word putting in for you. If it's meant to be, you'll win him over all by yourself. He won't be able to help falling for you."

"Yeh. _Ri-ight!" _Cassie's tone was self-defeating and Martha looked at her in bewilderment. Cassie was a beautiful person both inside and out, the kindest, most caring friend she'd ever known. And she was stunning. Her skin was flawless, her figure sensational, legs that went on forever. She was gorgeous but she really and truly didn't know she was.

"Of course he will." Martha insisted.

Cassie sighed heavily. "I hope he does though. I _have_ to have a boyfriend."

"No, you don't! " Martha said, amused.

"You don't understand, Mac. I_ do._ I _have_ to fit in."

Martha looked at her, again in surprise, but something about Casse's tone broached no argument. And besides what did you say to that? Maybe it was time to change the subject.

"I'm just going to go find Megan Ashcroft. I want to get the rest of that vodka off her. I'll be back in a minute, yeh? You go back inside. I won't be long."

"Oh, right. Sure."

Cassie wasn't really listening. How could Martha really understand? Pretty, popular Martha McKenzie had lived her whole life secure and loved. She had never been betrayed, she had never felt isolated or controlled. Martha had everything. The perfect family, the perfect life, the perfect looks. She could have had any guy she wanted if only she wasn't so hung up on Jack Holden. How could Martha ever have any idea what it felt like to be the outsider, never to fit in? What would Martha know? She hadn't lived the life that Cassie had, never had to question the motives of those closest to her.

But then Martha's family hadn't been like Cassie's. Martha's Granddad was loving and warm. Not like Cassie's Uncle had been. Cassie shuddered involuntarily at the memories.

She _had_ to have a boyfriend. She _had_ to be..._normal_.

Cassie wanted Kane and she would do anything to get him. He was an outsider, just like her. He was on the edge, just as she was. He had to see that Cassie was perfect for him. He just _had_ to. Hayley would talk him round. Hayley was popular and got on well with guys. Hayley would know what to say.

Cassie wiped a hand across her teary eyes, drew a deep breath and turned back into the house.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Thanks Meg. You don't mind if Cassie and I finish it off do you?"

"Go for it, babe!" Megan grinned.

Martha accepted the bottle of vodka with a smile. Megan Ashcroft seemed too far gone to care.

Leaving Megan slumped against a tree, she headed back towards the house. And then a familiar voice made her stop suddenly. Her eyes followed the voice and she gasped. The voice belonged to Hayley, the hand she held was Kane's and their destination was very _definitely_ Whitelady Copse!

Whitelady Copse was a place where couples went. Not where people doing their friends favours went. Martha felt her heart sink to her stomach.

Cassie would be devastated.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11 **_

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

****

_**Dangerous Liaisons**_

  
"Hey, Mac! What you got there?"

Cassie sounded strangely croaky. And she looked flushed too. If Martha hadn't known better, she'd have sworn her friend had been crying. But why on earth would she be? This was a party and not just _any_ party either but THE party of the year. Hayley's party, that only the ultra cool got invites to, and the dags and dropkicks and uglies of Summer Bay High got to go green with envy that they hadn't. Cass had probably just had a bit too much to drink.

"Vodka! Megan reckoned she'd had enough." Martha waved the bottle triumphantly. "But I told you go inside where it's warmer!" She chided, anxious to keep Cassie from finding out where Kane and Hayley had gone, taking Cassie's elbow and steering her towards the door.

"No-o." Cassie pulled away, flicking her hair behind her ears, trying to act nonchalant. "It...it's like a sauna in there."

She blinked back the tears she was desperate for Martha not to see and, to better hide them, looked over at the silver-moonlit-topped trees of Whitelady Copse and at the cloud-shadowed sky. If Martha saw her crying, she might ask questions. Questions Cassie didn't want to answer.

She _had_ gone back indoors. But looking round at everyone, seeing groups of people laughing and chatting easily with one other, had got to her. She was still the outsider. Still Crazy Cassie. Maybe she always would be.

Cassie had never had a real friend until Martha. And she'd never had a boyfriend either. Not a proper one. As soon as a boy tried to take things further, she backed off. They wanted to touch her where her Uncle had touched her and that was wrong, wasn't it? Or was it? It was all mixed up inside her head. Why couldn't she just be like other girls?

Hayley flirted and teased and pouted and all the guys loved her. Gypsy, the town bike, threw herself at any guy who happened to be around and even Jack Holden, who was meant to be Martha's soul-mate, had been smooching her all night. Kit - Cassie had always thought of Kit as striking in an unusual way until Hayley pointed out she was so weird-looking and so weird anyway she probably dropped out of a UFO - well, weird-looking or not, Noah was totally smitten with Kit. And Martha had all the boys looking at her since Hayley got her to ditch the tomboy clothes she used to prefer and go for more feminine stuff.

Hayley was sooo smart. Cassie wished she could be more like her.

"See, what you need is confidence," she whispered to herself, watching the party from a dark, half hidden place under the stairwell, pretending to be busy reading a text message on her mobile. Yeh, well, like anybody would be texting Cassie! She was only allowed to be part of Hayley's crowd because Martha was pretty and popular so of course beautiful people like Hayley wanted Martha around. Without Mac, Cassie would have been dismissed as one of the dags and never got an invite in a million years.

"...bloody frigid. Maybe she swings the other way."

Cassie glanced up, recognising the voice as belonging to Adam Kerr. She'd never liked him much; he'd always seemed a bit creepy and anyway he'd always been hung up on Hayley. But when he'd asked her out, Cassie had been so flattered that anyone actually thought her worth asking that she'd said yes _"faster than a desperate, lovesick puppy"_ . Hayley had been laughing when she said it, but the sneering look on her face hadn't been lost on her. It seemed every chance she got lately, Hayley made some comment about Cassie looking like a dog but when she'd dared protest that she didn't like the description, Hayley had tossed back her long blonde hair and pouted, "I was only joking! Don't be such a little _bitch_ to me, Cass!"

And Cassie had been the one to apologise, wondering if she was being hypersensitive and at the same time convinced Hayley had just scored another point.

Adam and Cassie had gone to the movies in Yabbie Creek and everything had been fine until he'd snaked his arm round her shoulders, put his hand down her top and loosened her bra strap and, feeling sick to the core, she'd run out. He'd seemed okay about it when she said she'd felt crook. But they never made another date. Cassie was half sad, half glad about that.

She wondered who Adam Kerr and his mates were bagging out. Poor girl, whoever it was. They were really laying into her.

"You gotta wonder if she _does_ swing the other way though. She's always hanging round with other chicks. Doesn't seem to like male company."

"She's snogged you though. Maybe she swings both ways."

"Yeh, well, remember what Mac was like when she first came to Summer Bay? All those baggy tops and trousers and even lesso boots! She looked like a reject from Wentworth Detention Centre till Hayley sorted her out."

"Jeez, now Martha! That's one chick _I_ wouldn't mind sorting out!"

Cassie jumped at the mention of Martha's name and realised that they'd heard the movement. Okay, well this was the start of the new, confident Cassie, wasn't it? She took a deep breath. Adam and two of his mates looked at her as she emerged, clicking shut the phone, trying to look as though she didn't have a care in the world.

And suddenly it was obvious from the silence and their guilty, amused looks _exactly_ who they'd been talking about!

"Trouble is, she can't decide if she wants Arthur or Martha," Adam guffawed as she fled outdoors, fighting not to cry, blushing furiously, their laughter ringing in her ears.

She didn't fit in. She never would. Not unless she changed. And she was going to. She was going to make them see she wasn't what everyone thought. The night air was cooling on her hot face and the rush of the sea to the shore and hubbub of music and voices from the bars and restaurants on the harbour below was strangely soothing after the loud thuds of the music indoors. Cassie wished she could be someone down there. Any one of those faces in the crowd. Someone nobody was judging.

"Where's Hayley? Where's Kane?" She made an effort to sound normal but there was a tell-tale tremor in her voice.

"Oh, just walking and talking. Let's go back inside," Martha said.

So she was right! Cass _was_ upset over something. But she knew her friend well. Cassie clammed up when she was put on the spot with questions, preferring to confide in her in her own time. Although they were the same age, Martha often looked on Cassie as a younger sister. She made to hook her arm and was startled and not a little hurt when her friend recoiled as if she'd been stung.

"Don't touch me, Mac! Don't touch me!"

"Cass, I..."

"I...uh...don't like being linked," Cassie said, stricken with guilt at the bewildered look on Martha's face.

But she'd _had_ to do something. Martha hadn't noticed him, but Cassie had. Adam Kerr had been standing in the doorway, crushing a cigarette under his heel, and as Martha made to hook her arm, he'd paused in the act of putting a bottle of bud to his lips and given Cassie a knowing smirk.

If she didn't put her plan with Kane into action fast, they were going to be the gossip of Summer Bay High!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Kane, okay, that's en..."

"Mmm," Kane said vaguely, nuzzling against her.

"Kane..."

"Yeh, babe?"

"I'm not...stop it!" Hayley giggled at the tickling sensation as Kane nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Mmm...?" Kane was barely listening. Hayley wasn't his kind of chick but if she was offering it to him on a plate with full trimmings who the hell cared?

"Stop it!" Hayley giggled again, slapping the hand that was sliding down past the base of her spine.

"Babe..." Kane murmured, pulling her closer, running his fingers through the silky smoothness of her blonde hair.

Tiny shivers of happiness ran through Hayley. Kane wasn't exactly her type of guy - he was too rough-round-the-edges and the smoking didn't help - but he was seriously sexy in a flirting-with-danger kind of way. It was nice being so close even though Hayley had no intention of taking it further. All the fun was in imagining the moment she got to see Cassie's face when she told her she and Kane had pashed long and hard. Little upstart. Crazy Cassie was changing the status quo at Summer Bay High and no way was Hayley going to put up with that.

The problem was, Martha Stewart was pretty. Not beautiful of course, unlike Hayley herself, but pretty enough to hang out with the in-crowd and suitably grateful for being allowed to do so. Until Cassie.

Cassie hadn't had very much to say for herself when she'd first started Summer Bay High, the way Hayley preferred it, but now she was coming out of her shell she was beginning to make waves. It was Cassie told Martha she'd noticed all the guys in Summer Bay High, especially Jack Holden, had been checking her out.

"No _waaay!"_ Martha said in flattered disbelief.

"It's true. I was watching him. Jack couldn't take his eyes off you in double Math."

_"Really?"_ Martha gave a little scream and her hands shot to her mouth. She'd had the hots for handsome dark-haired Jack Holden ever since she'd first seen him, shirtless, working out in the gym.

Hayley sneered. "Cass, don't wind Martha up like that! It's mean. And, Martha, grow up! It's not like Jack Holden's a big movie star or anything. Anyway, like he'd spend the whole of double Math staring at _you_, especially with Flathead taking the lesson."

"Yeh. Guess. Aw, you were probably imagining it, Cass. Nobody'd be looking at _me_."

But Martha's eyes were still shining. And, thanks to Cassie taking it on herself (without even _mentioning_ it to Hayley, if you please!) to tell Jack that Martha was interested, Jack had plucked up the courage to ask Martha out. Lately though, to Hayley's satisfaction, they'd had another blue.

"Talking of movie stars...anyone wanna see the latest pic of my cute kid bro?"

Hayley pulled a glossy magazine out of her bag as they sat on their desks waiting for morning class and was slightly pacified when a couple of her friends _oohed_ and _ahhed_ over the photo on page nine of some up-and-coming starlet and her new boyfriend, and showing Nick in the background of the celebrity-frequented restaurant.

Twelve-year-old Nick had been playing the lead role of _Oliver Twist_ in his drama school production when he'd been spotted by a talent scout looking for a blond-haired, blue-eyed kid who could tug at the heartstrings for a new movie. He died in the third scene, but it was Nick's big break and their starry-eyed Mum had accompanied him to glittering Hollywood. Hayley was used to younger girls at Summer Bay High asking her for his autograph and practically swooning when they saw her. Now _that_ was the way she liked it. Hayley Smith was someone and those kids knew it. What she didn't like was the way Martha Stewart was getting way, way too big for her boots. Hayley smiled grimly.

Maybe she should have left her wearing the lesso boots, as Adam Kerr used to call them, that Martha had worn when she'd first arrived in Summer Bay, in daggy discount store jeans and an even more daggy discount store striped top. God, all she needed was a straw in her mouth and a cow to lead to market and she could've stomped about like the farmer's daughter she was!

Hayley had nurtured Martha, persuaded her to ditch the he-man look, and she was damned if Martha was going to topple her popularity at Summer Bay High. After she'd finished with Cassie, she was going to make sure stupid pretty doll Martha was put right back in her pretty doll's box and...

_"Kane!" _

"What?" Kane shrugged innocently as Hayley pressed her hands against his chest and, using all her strength, pushed him away.

"Stop pawing me! Get this into your thick head..." She looked him condescendingly up and down. He was okay as a bit of rough. Fit. Nice eyes. But she was far too classy to cramp her style by settling for the likes of Kane Phillips. Adam Kerr, who hated him, had once remarked to her in History class that, had they all lived a hundred years ago, thicko Phillips would have been a derro selling matches and Hayley would have been lady of the manor. It was a pleasing image. And so true. "I'm not interested."

_"What?"_ He stared at her. "You led me to the copse, you said we were good together..."

Hayley gave a smug smile. "So? I changed my mind. Count yourself lucky. You got to pash the most beautiful chick in Summer Bay High, didn't you?" She turned away.

Only to freeze as he grabbed her arm.

"Oh, I get it. You like to play games. Well, me too, babe."

"Let go of me, Kane. You're hurting."

But he didn't let go. He grinned. A slow, sarcastic grin. And his grip on her arm tightened. That warning flurry of danger re-surfaced. Only this time it was more, far more, than a tiny warning voice. It was an instinct that came from the dawn of all time. _Fight or flight_. Except she couldn't do either. His grip was too strong and her feet refused to move. But her mind raced furiously, desperately seeking some way out.

For a moment there was cruel hope, when the moon crept briefly from behind a cloud, and she thought she saw someone inside the long-deserted restaurant. And then she realised it was nothing more than their own ghost-like silhouettes reflected in its filthy moonlit windows. Below them, people were walking on the harbour. People who would never be able to hear any cries for help above the loud rushing of the wind and sea.

A boat creaked in a long, mocking scream. Something rustled through the heavily-sighing trees. The blanket warmth of the night perfumed by flowers and the wail of the cooling breeze swirling through Whitelady Copse. His face moved closer to hers. The scent of his aftershave mixed with the smell of cigarettes and beer. His eyes cold as ice. Her heartbeat thudding in her ears. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

Pinned against the tree, Hayley couldn't move...


	12. Chapter 12A

_**Chapter 12**_

_**co-written by Skykat and I love music**_

_**People**_

"Will?"

Will sighed with frustration. For _weeks_ he had been trying to get with Dani Sutherland! Weeks of watching her, talking to her, wooing her - and, just when he was getting close, they were interrupted! Dani tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smothered a giggle, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. Pointedly trying to ignore the unwanted interruption, Will couldn't help but smile back. She was beautiful. And hot. And seriously interested so all he...

But the unwanted interruption flatly refused to go away. In fact, the unwanted interruption deliberately grew louder.

"_Will?"  
_  
"What do you want, Kim?" He sighed impatiently. The razor sharp edge to his voice shocked the normally laid-back Will Smith every bit as much as it shocked Kim. But Will was fuming. He and Dani had been sooo close.

"We need to do something about Holden. Just look at him!"

Kim indicated to where Jack was in the middle of being straddled by Gypsy, both of them kissing and touching passionately. Even though they were fully clothed it didn't leave much to anyone's imagination. Will shut his eyes to block out the picture but memories flooded back. Images of Gypsy, her tanned, toned body straddling _him, _her eager hands on _his_ chest, undoing _his_ buttons. Her slightest touch electrifying, her soft, warm kisses taking him to a heaven he had never known existed before.

He opened his eyes to banish the memories only for reality to mock. Gypsy's long flame-coloured hair trailing against Jack Holden's chest, her fingers undoing the buttons on Jack Holden's shirt, her lips connecting with Jack Holden.

"I don't give a damn about Holden. If he wants to make the same mistakes I did, let him. I've warned him often enough about Gypsy so leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with anything _she_ touches!" Will had no idea where all the anger came from. It merely erupted like a volcano from deep within and he furiously turned his head away.

_Look at the wall, the photo of himself, Hayley and Nick with their olds, look at the assortment of alcohol and the food, the empty glasses and cans strewn on the floor...Look at the false ivy trellis lining the banister that led upstairs to the bedroom where he and Gypsy had….  
_  
Will took a deep breath and glanced at Kim. Kim's face wore the same confused expression it often wore, but his brow was set in a puzzled frown. Naive was the one word that summed up Kim Hyde. He had the looks of a Greek God and the confidence of a small child. Will turned back to Dani. Beautiful, perfect Dani. Her flawless, big lips were made for kissing, her slim, perfect body begging to be touched. He yearned to touch her, to kiss those lips, to run his finger through her long red hair...

_Red_ hair? Where the hell had that come from? But he knew. Despite himself, his eyes had shot immediately back to her, to the girl with the long red hair, the girl now seductively dancing for Jack Holden.Next to him he felt a sudden movement as Dani wordlessly stood up and walked away.

"Look, man, I didn't mean, to, you know, cause trouble," Kim murmured guiltily, yet still unable to tear his gaze away from Jack and Gypsy.

And in that moment Will felt a surge of pity for him. Kim was obviously hung up on Gypsy.

"It's okay, mate," he sighed. "What you need to understand though is that Gypsy destroys everything she touches. She's bad news, trust me. Chews you up and spits you out. And Holden...well, he'll learn."

Will punched Kim on the arm and, with a final glance at the porn show on the couch, headed into the kitchen where Dani had poured herself an insanely large measure of wine.

"Hey." He took the bottle of beer from the crate beside her and snapped the top off with his teeth, felt her wince as it flew into the air.

"Do you _have_ to do that?"

She gestured towards the bottle opener, her green eyes no longer laughing with mischief. They were darker somehow, without the flecks of gold he had noticed earlier. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pursed. He knew when he was in the doghouse alright! Time to eat some humble pie or he'd blown his chances with her forever.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "Can you forgive me?"

"Do you even _know_ what you're apologising for?" She still didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixed on something at very bottom of her glass, something unseen but fascinating.

"Uh...for opening the bottle with my teeth and for losing my temper and for not being here to pour you that glass of wine?" Will shot her his famous lopsided grin. The same grin that had charmed many a woman, weakened many a resolve. But she didn't even look at him.

"Dani?" He put his hand on her arm but she brushed it aside.

"I don't care about the bottle or about you losing your temper. You really have no idea, do you? You really have no idea!" Dani glared icily.

He shrugged, confused, still oblivious to what he'd done.

"It was what you did, Will. The way you watched her. The way you couldn't take her eyes off her. You still have feelings for Gypsy," Dani accused.

"Dani, come on! That's ridiculous! The only thing I feel for Gypsy is hate. She disgusts me." Will placed both hands on Dani's arms and looked straight at her, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"There's a pretty thin line between love and hate, Will, and I'm not entirely convinced you're over her." Dani looked past him, to where Gypsy lay on the couch. Her lips were occupied with Jack, her fingers occupied with Jack, but suddenly she looked up and caught Dani's gaze.

And then she smiled. The slow smile of somebody who had won a victory, somebody smugly pleased with themselves. _She thinks she's won_, Dani realised. Will was speaking again and she tore her gaze away from Gypsy for moment/.

"There's only one girl in this room I want to be with. Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm crazy about you!" He looked into her eyes, searching for an answer.

"Really?" she asked, and he nodded earnestly.

Dani took a deep breath. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he did still have feelings for Gypsy, maybe he didn't. Fact was that right at this moment in time it was Dani he wanted.

"Yes, really," he confirmed.

Dani looked back to where Gypsy was watching them intently with that insufferable smirk. So Gypsy thought she had won, did she? Obviously she didn't know Dani Sutherland. Dani NEVER lost out on a guy she wanted. Not ever. And she wasn't about to do so now.

Reaching up, she took Will's face in her hands and brought her lips down firmly on his. And as Will responded to her kiss, Dani couldn't help herself. She shot a quick glance over his shoulder and, just as she knew she would be, Gypsy was still watching.

Except this time it was Dani who was smirking.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hayley! How did it go? What did Kane say? Does he like me?"

"What? Oh, yeh! Yeh, sure."

Hayley had no idea what she was saying or who she was saying it to. They were a blur of faces. A sea of disjointed conversations lost somewhere in the clinking glasses and pounding music. She had to be rid of him. She could still feel his breath on her neck. Still hear his mocking taunts echoing in her head...

"Don't play with fire, darlin'."

"I...I...Let me go. Please." Hayley's voice was a whisper. Tears misted her eyes and spilled down her cheeks unchecked.

He grinned mockingly. So close that his gaze burrowed into her skin and his words brushed her face like sandpaper. "Didn't Mummy and Daddy ever tell their little princess that kiddies who play with fire always get burned?"

She drew in a sharp, angry breath. What would _he_ know?

_Orphan. It was a funny word. All that five-year-old Hayley knew about it was that Annie had been an orphan. She wondered if she had to be called Annie now and if she, Will and Nick had to start singing and dancing like the orphans did in the movie. But she didn't feel like singing and dancing. She felt like crying. And she couldn't understand why Mum and Dad didn't come back. _

"_Because they CAN'T," Will explained again. Patiently. Seven-year-old Will rarely got mad with anyone, not even kid sisters. "Because they're DEAD."_

_He said it matter-of-factly. Not because he didn't care, but because he was the eldest and took his responsibilities as eldest seriously. They both spoke in whispers. They were playing in the park, on another outing from the Home for them all to get used to each other, because they would be together as a family next week. Mrs Smith was sitting close by on the bench, while Mr Smith had only run off to retrieve the football Will had just kicked and was likely to be back any minute._

"_Why?" Hayley asked, her lower lip trembling._

_Will wiped a hand across his nose, sniffling back his own tears. "Because the car crashed."_

"_I don't like them being dead." Hayley's voice began to rise tearfully. "Why don't they come back?"_

_Will sighed, even his phenomenal patience being put to the test now. He'd already just explained everything twice._

"_Because they're..." Then his heart, as usual, got the better of him and he put his arm round his little sister's shoulders. "You gotta be good, Hayles. See, they mightn't take us if they think we're gonna miss our real Mum and Dad too much. And you want us all to stay together, don't you? And Nick loves our new Mum, don't he?"_

_Hayley looked across at Nick, who was fast asleep in their new Mum's lap, fair hair flopping over his contented face, fingers tightly curled round a half-eaten biscuit. An aching pang of jealously shot through her as she watched Mrs Smith prise the soggy biscuit out of his grasp and tenderly stroke his forehead. Nick was only sixteen months old. Too young to remember their real Mum and Dad and special moments. But Hayley could._

_Special moments like how she would always run to their real Dad as soon as he got home from work and how he would lift her high into the air and swing her round to pretend she was flying. Special moments like how, before Hayley started kindy, their real Mum would finger paint or bake fairy cakes with her while Nick was sleeping and Will at school._

"_And if we go to live with our new Mum and Dad, we can have everything we want. Heaps of toys and chockie and lollies and a stableful of ponies..."_

_Will was clutching at straws, saying anything that came into his head to calm his kid sister, but Hayley's eyes widened hopefully. She had always wanted a pony (as Will was well aware). As it happened, a pony turned out to be about the only thing she never got._

_Although she did have riding lessons until she bored of them. Hayley got bored easily. It was one of the few drawbacks to having fabulously wealthy parents._

_Will didn't know it when he made his rash promises, no one could have done, not even the Smiths themselves, but as time went on, Mr Smith's fledgling property business (at present consisting of no more than a rundown house that he planned to convert and let out to students) would go from strength to strength and turn them into very rich people. Sadly, however, the couple had never been particularly keen on animals. Which was probably just a well, for, while it meant that Will never did get the Labrador he longed for and Hayley never did get her own pony to keep in a stable, Nick, over the years, would beg in vain to be allowed to keep all kinds of exotic creatures, from tigers to crocodiles._

_But then that was Nick. Flamboyant from the start. With his big blue eyes, beaming smile and perfect comedy timing, Nick was a born entertainer, loving nothing more than to have everyone laugh and clap at his antics. Another aching pang of jealousy shot through Hayley as Mr Smith, their new Dad, breathless and laughing, finally returned with the muddy football that Will had kicked way off limits._

"_Great shot, son!" He said, impressed, and absently ruffled Hayley's hair. "You want to take the next kick, Hale?"_

"_NO!" Hayley shouted, pouting, though remembering not to cry anymore like Will had advised. She wanted that stableful of ponies sooo badly. But she hated being called Hale. She was Hayles or Hayley._

"_Guess a pretty girl like you doesn't like getting muddy, hey? Tell you what, how about when we next go to the city we buy a lovely new dress for our beautiful little girl?"_

"_That'd be cool, wouldn't it, Hayles? 'Cos I got the new footie and Nick got the new wind-up music toy." _

_Will was grinning as he spoke, but it hadn't been lost on him that the Smiths had managed to overlook Hayley when they'd been in the store earlier. Of course, the football was meant to be between both of them, but it was Will, not Hayley, who loved footie, and, of course, she'd got an ice-cream, but they'd all got an ice-cream. Hayley smiled back, reading the secret message in Will's eyes about that wonderful possibility of a stableful of ponies. Will could always made her feel better. She trudged back to the bench, thinking deeply. There were things she needed to sort out in her mind. _

"_Am I pretty?" _

_Hayley didn't believe in wasting time. She began her question while climbing up on the bench, with difficulty, it being slightly higher than she could negotiate, and needing to be helped up by Mrs Smith hooking a hand under her arm. _

"_Of course you are, sweetheart." Julie Smith had turned to Hayley only briefly. A chill was creeping into the air and, worried about Nick catching cold, she tugged the blanket out of the buggy to wrap round the sleeping child in her lap._

"_But am I as pretty as Princess Precious?" Hayley asked earnestly, as she settled herself down and pushed her hair behind her ears._

_Mrs Smith turned to Hayley, surprised by the anxiety in her little foster daughter's voice. "Oh, much prettier, pet! You're beautiful. Eyes blue as the sky and hair golden as sunlight," she smiled, quoting from the Princess Precious story she'd read to Hayley yesterday, and turning quickly back to fix Nick's blanket._

_Hayley looked up at the sky her eyes were blue as, squinting against the sunlight her hair was golden as, thinking things through. So she was beautiful. People had always told her she was, but it was very, very important now. Hayley was too young to understand properly. All she knew was that their new Mum had a bub to cuddle and their new Dad had a son to play footie with so Hayley needed to be special or nobody would love her. And she was. She was beautiful!_

_By a happy coincidence, Will, Hayley and Nick already shared the same surname as their new parents and Hayley took to their far wealthier lifestyle like a duck takes to water, almost convincing herself that she'd been born into riches. By the time they had uprooted to live in Summer Bay, the memory of her real parents was so hazy that sometimes she thought she'd only dreamt them. She was Hayley Smith. Beautiful, rich and popular, with a heartthrob older brother and a younger brother making it big in Hollywood. People loved her because she was beautiful and she could get whatever she wanted because she was beautiful._

And in a moment Kane Phillips had brought all that she was tumbling down around her.

"Please, Kane, don't..." she said, trembling, in a shaky voice she didn't recognise as her own. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out her terror. She wasn't strong enough to stop him. It was going to happen and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

But he laughed suddenly and shoved her roughly aside. "You know, you're not even worth it, prin_-cess!" _

Hayley staggered away, sobbing in huge, frightened gulps, running clumsily back towards the mansion. It had begun to rain. Light, rhythmic summer rain, that would have been pretty and sounded musical by day, by night sounding dismal and tinging everywhere with a cold, lonely sadness. Low cloud had smothered the sky, blotting out the stars and leaving a forsaken moon to find its own brief moments of glory when and where it could. The air was tainted. The breeze in her hair, the sigh of the trees, the rush of the sea, they were nothing more than mocking whispers. All she wanted was to run forever. All she wanted was to be rid of him.

It seemed like a thousand years had passed since she had left the party and yet the world was carrying on as though nothing had happened.

Down on the harbour, the usual crowd noises floated up from the bars and the boats on the river still swayed on their dark waters, creaking their haunting melody. In the warmth and brightness of the house, her carefully selected party guests still danced and talked and drank, and the pool of mud and rain that in wet weather always gathered in the dip near the sapling, that she, Will and Nick had planted the first week they moved to Summer Bay, was gathering steadily again in the falling summer rain.

Somehow she had the presence of mind to stop running just before she went back inside. Thankfully, for once there was no one around. She took a deep breath and she kept her head down. They'd think she'd maybe had a bit too much alcohol. Well, that was fine, that was what she wanted them to think. Someone asked her a question. She thought she answered; she couldn't be sure. Her gaze fixed on the door to the bathroom. She had to be alone. In the privacy and the safety.

From across the room Kit watched her race upstairs and smiled. Hayley had just played right into her hands!


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

_**co-written by Skykat and I love music**_

_**Revenge  
**_  
"Just going the toilet, babe." Kit reached up to kiss Noah, pulling him close and at the same time snaking her hands round his back and into his jeans pocket. "You going to miss me?"

"When would I ever _not_ miss you?" Noah responded willingly to her kiss and Kit let herself relax as her hand rested on what she had been looking for. Smiling at him, she removed her hands from his pocket and headed towards the stairs, the key she had stolen from his pocket, clasped tightly in her hand.

Hayley gazed shakily at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was white as a sheet, her rain-sodden hair was a mess and her eyes were red from crying. Tears welled up inside her yet again and she rested her hot forehead against the cooling glass, weeping silently. He'd trodden over all that she had and made her feel like nothing. He'd touched her where she hadn't wanted to be touched, cruelly mocking her with the knowledge he could have...he could have...Hayley suddenly began to retch uncontrollably. She barely managed to lift the toilet lid before being violently sick.

As she approached the bathroom, Kit heard the sound of somebody vomiting. She grinned to herself. Obviously Princess Hayley had had far too much to drink. Oh, how the mighty had fallen! And she was about to fall even further, she thought with satisfaction.

Hartwell Mansion, currently the residence of the Smiths, had been built many, many years before the Smith family came to live in Summer Bay, or were even born, and some of its late Victorian era construction was rather quaint, one such being the inclusion of a key for each of its bathrooms so that they could all be locked from _outside_ as well as inside, perhaps to prevent small children from falling into filled baths. (Ironically, although a body was never found, there is strong evidence to support the theory that Lady Eleanor, who grew up in Hartwell Mansion, drowned herself in the nearby swirling river after being crossed in love; page nine of _Ghosts and Legends of Summer Bay _tells the full story and of how Whitelady Copse acquired its name.) Whatever the reasons for the bathroom's outer locks, Kit made use of one now, placing the key in the key-hole and turning it.

Hayley had slumped back against the wall, taken a tissue and wiped her mouth, still unable to stop the trembling that had begun again in her stomach and was threatening to overwhelm her. She was trying hard to concentrate on inhaling deeply and letting her breath out slowly when, to her terror, she heard the key turning, trapping her inside. Was it him? Had he come after her? Was he going to...going to...?

"Who's out there? Let me out!" Her fists thudded frantically against the door. Someone _had_ to stop him. Someone _had_ to hear.

She heard a muffled laugh and a surge of strange relief replaced her fear. She'd have recognised that stupid piggy snort anywhere. And a fire of anger tore through her. She was Hayley Smith. She was _someone._ She was beautiful. She wouldn't let losers like Kane Phillips and Kit Hunter take away all that she had.

"Look here, Kit Hunter, you ugly little dingo, you better let me out..."

Kit wouldn't know of the tears streaming down her face. Kit wouldn't know that if she focused on the hatred between them she didn't even have to think about Kane Phillips.

Kit smiled to herself. Revenge was sooo sweet.

"Not much fun, is it, being locked inside a bathroom? No way of escaping and all those lovely, lovely sharp objects lying around waiting just for you, scissors, razor blades, ooh, and don't forget those nice mirrors, maybe you could even break a mirror or two. Pity you're not wearing black, I hear black is the in colour for a corpse…" She laughed as the door shook under the hammering. Hayley's fists must be hurting like hell. Serve the snobby cow right.

"There's something about being locked in, isn't there, Hayles?" she spat, warming to her theme. "It strips you of all your power and you can't help but wonder how you're going to get out - or even if you're ever going to get out! And you worry about what you're missing out on outside, about what's going on behind your back…"

"You better let me out of this bathroom right this second, you bitch, or..."

"Or what?" Kit was enjoying herself. Hayley so deserved this. "What _will_ you do? Calling me names though, that's not a very good idea. Especially as I hold the key."

"I'll call you what the hell I like, you horse faced little…"

"Sticks and stones. Your words can't hurt me. Do you know why? I'll tell you, shall I? It's not like you're going anywhere. Whatever you say to me means nothing. Because _you're_ nothing. You're sad and pathetic, making plays for guys that just aren't interested. Queen Piranha, that's what he called you. _'But we're meant to be together, Noah'_…" Kit mocked Hayley's voice in a high-pitched whine. "Oh, he told me all about your pathetic attempt to get him back. When ARE you going to get it through your thick head that he's NOT interested?"

Hayley stopped hammering, rubbed her bruised knuckles, and smiled grimly. She had the perfect answer. She could even picture Kit's plain face as she said it.

"Oh, you poor, deluded bitch! When will YOU get it through _your_ thick skull that he's just using you to get at me? You've got rocks in your head if you can't see it, dearie. Get real, honey. What could he possibly see in you? You're ugly, plain and fat, and your dress sense is a joke. What exactly have you got to offer?"

Kit felt Hayley's words etch on her skin, almost as if she was cutting them in with a knife. Even locked in a room, Hayley still knew how to hurt and Kit felt herself deflate, her confidence ebbing away. But somewhere deep inside she managed to find a modicum of belief even though there was a catch in her voice. Hayley's words had cut her to the quick.

"He sees a stunningly beautiful girl. Someone with a heart of gold who doesn't have her head stuck permanently up her own backside. He sees somebody genuine, kind. Somebody real, not a professional Barbie doll with a heart of stone. That's what he sees."

Not having heard Noah approach, Kit had not even realised he was behind her until he traced his finger down her neck. She turned and smiled guiltily at him, reading the expression on his face. "Hey, babe! Hayley and me were just having a nice girly chat."

"Noah? Noah is that you? You have to let me out! She's locked me in here! Noah!"

Wordlessly Noah reached around Kit and turned the key in the lock.

"Hey!" Kit protested, but Noah spun her round, pinning her against the wall and kissing her as Hayley threw the door open.

Hayley was furious and ready to fly at Kit. But she had not expected to see them kissing. That was the last thing she expected. She felt as if all the blood had been drained from her body. The whole world was against her. She watched them, horrified, but at the same time unable to move. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. But she could pretend she didn't give a damn.

They had come up for air. Kit made to smirk but Hayley got there first. Her own smirk more classy, more feminine, more polished. Years of practice. _Have sloppy seconds, honey, it's all you're good enough for. _She didn't need to say it. Kit visibly wilted, a shadow crossing her face, remembering her dowdiness. Hayley turned slowly, sexily, and looked Noah up and down, giving a small, secret laugh, licking her top lip in derision. Another silent message. _Oh, pur-leeze! Give me a man, not a boy! _Enjoying his look of utter confusion, she flicked back her blonde hair and sashayed away.

But she didn't switch on the light in her bedroom.

The outlines of the furniture could just about be seen, silhouettes barely visible, thick curtains blocking out even the tiniest hint of brightness. But she needed it to be this way tonight. Lonely night. Black, dark, calm, terrifying night. She knew instinctively where her bed was and she crawled onto it and lay staring upwards into the pool of darkness. She could hear the sounds of the party, the music, the talking, the laughter. Another world.

Her arm brushed against something soft and warm and she knew immediately what it was. Freddie Teddy, that long ago childhood gift, that symbol of innocence. She hugged him tightly to her chest pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Creating a protective layer to keep out all that hurt. Tears stung her eyes as her whole body began to shake and she hugged Freddie even tighter, drawing comfort from him. Memories of childhood washed over her.

_Hayley giggled. It was Christmas Day and Christmas Day was magic. And she danced beautifully, like an angel, Mum said. But Will was hopeless. She was only four and Will was six, two whole years older, but he couldn't dance! He had his hands on his hips and he was trying to dance like Mum was showing him, but he kept falling over his own feet, sometimes on purpose, and crying with laughter. _

_Christmas was always fun like this, with everyone fooling around. They were dancing to a CD of Irish music that someone had given Mum for Christmas and she was showing them the Irish dancing she used to learn at school. Dad was patting the back of the their new baby brother, but Nick was hungry and crying for a bottle so Mum took him instead and Hayley picked up Freddie Teddy, who'd been one of her favourite presents out of all those she had opened, and Dad lifted her high into the air and they pretended she was flying...  
_  
Another Christmas. Another memory.

_Hayley peeped uncertainly round the door. It was Christmas Day and Christmas Day was meant to be magic, but she couldn't be sure about that. She couldn't be sure about anything anymore. _

"_Hey, Hale!" Her new Dad said, not noticing Hayley frowned at the name. "Come and see what Father Christmas left for you, sleepy head!" _

_He was kneeling on the floor, he and Will engrossed in setting up some kind of complicated railway track, and he indicated the pile of enticingly wrapped presents waiting for her at the bottom of the Xmas tree. Hayley smiled shyly - they'd only been living with their new Mum and Dad for a few weeks and she wasn't used to them yet - and, clutching Freddie Teddy tightly to her chest, picked her way past the mound of ripped, strewn Xmas paper that had lately wrapped Will and Nick's gifts. _

"_Happy Christmas, poppet!" Her new Mum stooped briefly to kiss the top of her head. She was carrying a tray into the kitchen with one hand and had Nick perched on her hip with the other, and he was eating chocolate and jabbering away, his eyes shining with excitement._

_The presents were wonderful. Cinderella Barbie, just what she'd told Father Christmas she wanted, a new Tamogotchi, a sing-a-long CD player...Hayley's heart quickened as she opened each one, the usual Xmas magic sweeping over her and carrying her breath away. She picked up Freddie Teddy again and jumped up, about to run over to see what other presents Will had got. _

_But then she stopped. _

_Will and their new Dad were playfighting, fooling over something to do with the train set. And through the open kitchen door she could see Nick sitting on the kitchen worktop, swinging his legs like he always did when he was happy, and every now and again their new Mum, busy making mince pies, was putting flour on his nose and making him laugh.  
Hayley looked back at her toys and a silent tear splashed down on Freddie Teddy. She wondered why no one had woken her._

Memories.

Kit locking her in the bathroom. Kit and Noah pashing. Kane Phillips pinning her against the tree and making her feel like...like dirt. A surge of white hot anger flooded through her. He would pay. And that slag Kit Hunter would pay too. And Gypsy "town bike" Nash. The whole bloody world would pay! Freddie Teddy belonged to the past. She didn't need him anymore. She didn't need anyone.

Hayley scratched her carefully polished and manicured fingernails into the teddy bear's face and felt a strange satisfaction as she plucked out its eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Thanks to those readers who have put this story on chapter alert. Flattered. :)

_**Chapter 14**_

_**co-written by Skykat & I love music**_

_**Storm Clouds**_

She may have been straddled across Jack's lap, raining hot kisses on his face, but Gypsy's attention was focussed over his shoulder. On Will. And _her._ The anorexic-looking lollipop lady who right now had her arms clasped viper-like around Will's neck, her body pressed close to his, her lips glued to his lips.

But Dani's eyes were not on Will; they were on Gypsy. Eyes that were laughing and mocking and shining with triumph. Gypsy felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol she had consumed.

Will really had moved on.

She had thought earlier, just for a second, that they might still have something between them. The silent fury that had been etched in his face when he saw her with Jack. The _way_ he had looked at her. Oh, she had been _so sure _for a moment. But then the disgust had followed. The disgust that inevitably followed when people looked at Gypsy. But she never thought Will would ever look at her like that. She had always held out hope, just a flicker no more than a waning candle, but still the tiniest hope that one day he'd forgive her. Now she knew she'd lost him for good. He'd decided, just like everyone else had, that she wasn't worth the effort.

And she wasn't.

The room around her was fading in and out of focus. Music blared from the stereo, pounding in her ears. The prissy pop type music that Hayley loved and Gypsy loathed. She smiled to herself and poor, naive Jack smiled back, actually thinking the smile was for him. But Gypsy was lost in memories.

_"I swear if she plays that damn stuff one more time…" Will eyes flashed in angry humour. Hayley may have driven everyone else mad, but she was still his kid sister and easygoing Will was still protective of her. _

Gypsy whispered in his ear, watching the smile creep over his face as he turned her over and pinned her to the bed.

"Oh really? You really think we could drown it out?" His hands wound strands of her hair round his fingers, tightening loose coils and then releasing them. His strong frame kept her locked in his embrace, his eyes never leaving her own.

"I'm sure of it." She had kissed him then, his soft lips meeting her own, his hot breath on her face, her neck. 

Gypsy smiled and instantly recoiled as Jack Holden smiled back. A very drunk Jack Holden.

_"Heyyyy," _he slurred at her. He didn't have a clue what he was doing and she felt strangely sorry for him. He looked pathetic. He _was_ pathetic.

But then so was she. If anything, she was worse because, as much as she had had to drink, she was nowhere near as out of it as Jack was. Nowhere near as out of control. At least _she_ knew what she was doing. Gypsy felt the nausea flooding over her again and she clasped her hand to her mouth. Standing up, she pushed him from her and bolted.

_"Wassamarrerwhereyougoin'?" _she could hear him calling drunkenly after her and it made her want to run even faster. To get away from him. To drown him out.

Once outside, the cool air hit her like the blast of a fan. Gypsy almost collapsed against the wall and let her body drop gently to the ground. The hard earth was cold and unforgiving but Gypsy didn't care. _She_ was cold and unforgiving. She deserved no better. She shut her eyes in a desperate attempt to block out the sight of Will and Dani. But there was to be no escape. Even with her eyes tightly shut she could still see them kissing.

And it hurt so much to know that Will had moved on. It was as though somebody was toying with her, cruelly inserting a knife between her shoulder blades and twisting it with agonising slowness. She could almost imagine the person turning the knife. Hayley. Someone who hated her even more than everyone else hated her, who would do anything to get revenge. Someone who, by virtue of her birth, would always have influence and power in Will's life. She drew a deep breath, thinking back.

_"I really thought we had something, Gypsy." _

Will's face, the face she knew every inch of and loved every centimetre of, was twisted in pain, his mouth set in a thin line. But it was his eyes that broke her heart. Eyes that had once looked deeply into hers. Eyes that had once radiated love and warmth and were now filled with nothing but contempt. She could almost taste his bitterness.

"We do, Will," she whispered, tears running down her face. 

_"How can we when you do something like this? Jack's my best friend, for God's sake! How could you betray me like this?" His voice was shaky and broken. Tears glistened in his eyes and Gypsy choked just to look at him. She had done this to him. She was responsible for his pain. _

"I'm sorry. I love you, Will. I love you so much!" She tried to touch him, to reach out and comfort him, but he brushed her aside.

"I used to love you too, Gypsy. But obviously that wasn't enough." He had turned then and walked away, leaving her sobbing, on her knees in the sand. Broken. 

And she was still broken.

Pulling her legs up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. The stars glittered and danced against the black velvet sky and Gypsy stared at them, transfixed. Anything, anything not to cry.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jack! _Jack!"  
_  
The insistent voice echoed in his head and Jack didn't know who it was talking, but he knew he wanted whoever it was to go away. He closed his eyes as the whole room lurched dangerously around him, swirling like a ship in a storm.

"Jack!" The voice was there again and Jack angrily lashed out at it.

"Owww!" came a cry, and then Jack felt someone take him by the scruff of his neck and a grip tighten on his collar. "Jack Holden, you better open your eyes NOW before I do something we both regret!"

Jack gingerly opened one eye (not an easy process when it so desperately wanted to re-shut itself) and sleepily studied his assailant.

"Kim...?" He asked uncertainly.

"Yes, _Kim!_ And you're gonna to wake yourself up right _NOW_. For Crissakes, mate, look at the state of you!"

An ice cold wet cloth was thrown none-too-gently against his face and Jack jumped suddenly back into wakefulness.

"Leave me alone!" he protested.

"No way! What the hell are you playing at? Why get involved with _her_ again? What about Martha?"

"Martha?"

"Yes, Martha. Long dark hair, brown eyes, red dress, stunning. Your girlfriend? Remember?"

The room was heaving unsteadily back into focus, but Jack hadn't yet hit dry land and was still sailing the stormy seas. _Martha. Martha, Martha...? _Wasn't there was a hazy image of a Martha stored away in his mind...? Ah, got it!

He was hooked the instant his blue eyes met her brown ones. God, those eyes! Those incredible eyes!

A bad dose of tonsillitis had grounded Jack Holden for some time. Returning to school was a real downer. He furiously slammed books out of his locker and crammed them into his school bag. Jeez, why couldn't Summer Bay High give a guy a break! He'd only just recovered from a life-threatening illness - yeh, well, okay, not _quite_, but what if it had been? - and he was expected to fit in extra tuition to catch up AND the usual homework assignments. There were more important things like footie, mates, surfing, music and most of all _girls_ out there! He'd been out of action too long and needed to get back into the swing of things asap.

It had been a pleasant shock when the new chick - Cathy, Callie, Something - long legs, tanned, fantastic figure, scared, haunted look - had told him her friend Martha was interested. Jack had spent the whole of yesterday's double math unable to take his eyes off Martha McKenzie. In fact, he'd been unable to take his eyes off Martha McKenzie ever since she first came to Summer Bay High a little while back, but, unbelievably, he hadn't yet made his move. Even Jack Holden couldn't have told Jack Holden why.

He'd always thought he was the love 'em and leave 'em type. With good looks and laid back charm he could afford to be. Jack Holden had never had a problem getting a girlfriend. But none of them had ever been as stunningly beautiful as Martha McKenzie.

"So you can go ask her out now." Cathy, Callie, Something, who'd joined Summer Bay High while Jack had been absent fighting his death-defying illness of tonsillitis, folded her arms like it was an order and, now that she'd given it, Jack was expected to set off immediately.

"Ye-eh. Thanks," he said.

He was actually in the middle of a kickabout, but she had ignored the footie game to march straight up to him. His mates were watching the little scene in amusement. Jack glanced momentarily towards them and, as if suddenly becoming aware they had an audience, Cathy, Callie, Something, shivered and walked away as abruptly as she'd arrived without another word. _Sheesh!_ He'd heard on the grapevine that the new chick was a bit - well, weird, and this just proved it!

But she must have occasionally had some interesting conversation or the stunningly beautiful Martha McKenzie would never have hung out with her. Or maybe Martha just wasn't as shallow as Jack. But life had taught Jack to be shallow.

_The shouting had slowly grown from a dull murmur of raised voices to a full on screaming match. Abuse, yelled at the highest decibels, seemed to bounce from one parent to another like a ping pong ball. _

Six-year-old Jack had buried his head deeply under the covers so did not notice his little brother Lucas enter the room. He had no idea he was even there until the covers were lifted from his head and he felt Lucas's small body climb into bed next to him. Normally, when one of them took something belonging to the other or encroached on the other's territory like this, a furious row ensued, often with Lucas, being youngest, throwing kicks and punches and Jack torn between defending himself and not wanting to be a bully.

But these were exceptional circumstances.

So he didn't suspiciously demand to know had Lucas wet his own bed, seen a ghost or monster (Jack was quite certain he did not want ghosts or monsters following Lucas into this room) or done something he was hoping that his older brother would take the rap with him for - like all three-year-olds Lucas often did weird stuff, like sticking blobs of play-dough at random points round the house or carefully digging up slugs, one by one, from the garden and re-housing them in the kitchen sink. Jack gritted his teeth as Lucas slid on to the end of his pillow, turned several times, settled for the uncomfortable position of sleeping face down and, with muffled sobs, angrily thumped the pillow over and over with his small fists.

At last he sat up, tears shining on his little face, mucus running down his button nose, and Jack offered him the corner of the pillow slip, which Lucas ignored till Jack gently swiped him round his head. Lucas blew hard, Jack waited till he finished, then advised, "Next time though you better wipe the snot on your PJs."

"O-okay," Lucas whimpered, and offered the pillow back, which Jack immediately returned.

"Nah. You sleep on it tonight."

"Ta." Lucas hugged the pillow to him, oblivious to what he'd just wiped on it. His lower lip trembling, he looked up at his older brother. "Why are they shouting? Don't they like us anymore?"

"Its just a blue, Luc. All Mums and Dads have them. Shut up crying and go to sleep."

Jack immediately felt guilty for speaking sharply. Lucas obediently swallowed a shuddering tearful breath, nodded fearfully and slid quietly downwards, still clutching the pillow tightly to his chest, where he lay in uncharacteristic silence, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the noise downstairs, hiccuping ever so gently, tear streaks on his terrified moonlit face.

Impulsively, Jack wrapped his arm around his younger brother and, gratefully reassured, Lucas curled up against him and the pillow.

"No smelly farting though or you're out," Jack warned in a stage whisper. "Now get to sleep."

And after a while Lucas had finally managed to do just that, quietly sobbing, sniffling and whimpering his way into oblivion. Jack had not been lucky enough to find such peace. Even when the slamming doors ceased and silence reigned, he lay wide awake, his own frightened, silent tears raining down his face. Listening and thinking. 

He still heard that argument. Even now. Every time he heard raised voices, he remembered it. It had changed his whole life, the way he perceived things. After that row, everything changed.

_The kitchen was unnaturally calm and quiet next morning when Jack, leaving Lucas still in the land of dreams and with the whole of the duvet he'd stolen last night, snuck in to find Mum cooking breakfast. He was trying not to make any noise but suddenly he tripped over something and almost fell. It took him a full minute to realise what he'd tripped over. Two large cases next to the door. _

"You okay, sweetie?" Mum asked, and Jack nodded. His eyes on the cases.

"Where's Dad?" he finally ventured.

"Gone to work. As usual." She turned swiftly away, as if she didn't want to talk about Dad.

"What are they for?" He gestured towards the cases.

"Mummy has to go away for a little while," she softly explained, turning to him.

"Are you coming back?"

"Of course I am. I always do, don't I?" She smiled, kissed his head, and placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

Jack relaxed. Occasionally she had to go away overnight to do with her work. He deliberately let the warning bell in his mind ring unanswered. Not wanting anything to be bad. Okay, so normally she only took a small case and a canvas shoulder bag filled with miniature free samples of toiletries to show to the sales people. But maybe this time for some reason she had to take giant bottles of shampoo and multi-pack bars of soap.

"Good! Because Dad makes lousy brekkie," he replied, shuddering at the memory of burnt bacon and runny eggs.

His mother made a little coughing noise and Jack looked up to see tears in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" He asked in alarm.

"Nothing, sweetie. Just a bad cold. And just thinking how much I love you and Lucas," she replied, tenderly stroking his hair. "Guess I better try wake your brother and get him ready for kindy."

She sniffed and rolled her tearful eyes Heavenwards as she spoke - it was a family joke about Lucas being such a deep sleeper - and Jack, believing the bad cold story, grinned happily back. Mum loved him and little pain-in-the-butt Luc. All was well with the world.

"He's in my bed. He was scared. I was good and looked after him. I always look after him. Can I eat his brekkie if he don't get up in five minutes?" 

But when returned home from school she had gone. Forever. Despite her promises. Despite her saying how much she loved them. She never came back.

Lonely days faded into weeks, weeks faded to months and years. Confusion faded to hurt and then to anger and bitterness. He watched his father growing thin, pale and tired, struggling to hold down a job and look after him and Lucas. A broken man who cried over her photo when he thought they never saw. His Dad, who bathed their cut knees and took them to the movies and the beach, who bought them new shoes and cheered them on till he was hoarse when they played in Sunday footie games. Who made sure they brushed their teeth and ate their veggies and had uniforms ironed for school. Who was always there when they went to bed and when they woke in the morning. Men you could trust. Men you could rely on. Women left. Women said they loved you and then they left. He would never put his faith or love in a woman again.

Amy Anderson was the first.

Amy Anderson had been the girl next door. The irritating bratty kid who'd followed him around, wanting to join in with boyish games, looking at him with adoring eyes and calling him _Jacky_. That name grated on him even now. He remembered Lucas teasing him.

_'Jacky and Amy sitting in a tree…'_

He remembered complaining to his father that she wouldn't leave him alone and his father's laughing response. "Maybe she LIKES you?"

He could still picture the delight on Amy's face when he'd asked her out.

_"Me? I thought you hated me!" _

"Why would I hate you?"

"I don't know. You're always so nasty to me…"

"Well, if you don't want to…" He shrugged, turning his back on her and began walking away.

"No, wait! I do! I really do! Please go out with me! My friends will be sooo jealous!" She ran after him and caught hold of his arm, almost bubbling over with excitement.

"Why?" he asked her, confused.

She looked at him in astonishment. "Because they ALL like you!" 

And that had been it. The realisation that he was desirable.

Amy Anderson had been dumped three days later and replaced by Susie Jones. Then came Helen Short (_wept over the Valentine's Day card he never gave her_), her place taken by Anna Overwright (_stoked to be asked out on Valentine's Day_). Jack was a legend in his primary school, respected and envied by all his mates. And when he grew older and joined Summer Bay High he had continued exactly the same way. Using women, winding them around his finger until he got what he wanted, and then casting them aside.

_"You ever going to settle down Holden?" _

They were sitting in Casey's American style coffee-house and Jack had been eyeing up an attractive blonde. He looked up at his then best mate Paul Harrison and shrugged.

"What's the point? Women only ever screw you up. You might as well get in there first. Screw 'em and leave 'em."

"You don't believe there's someone for everyone then?" Paul looked at him eagerly, as if Jack's opinion mattered more than anything else in the world.

"Maybe there is but you can't trust women. They only ever leave. Best not to let them get close." Taking a sip of his milkshake, he winked at the blonde and headed over to make his move. 

And, to begin with, Martha McKenzie had been just another conquest in a long line of conquests. It started simply enough.

Still smarting over all the extra schoolwork, he angrily swung his heavy school bag over his shoulder and unscrewed the top off a bottle, about to take a refreshing gulp of coke. That was when someone suddenly jogged his elbow, spilling the drink all down his crisp white school shirt. Jeez, that was all he needed! He turned round, furious. Only to stop dead in his tracks on meeting the _okay-sorry-it-was-an-accident-but-mate-YOU'LL-be-sorrier-if-you-dare-throw-a-hissy-fit_ expression in her brown eyes.

_Gorgeous _brown eyes.

Like she'd cast a magic spell over him, his bad mood instantly evaporated. He asked her out that very second. Unable to hold out any longer. Hold out against what, he didn't know. She was just another chick. A stunningly beautiful chick with gorgeous brown eyes, but just another chick. He suggested that she went on a date with him as payback and she laughed and agreed, her cheeks suddenly tinged by pink. Maybe she was remembering that glimpse of him working out in the school gym shirtless, when she had looked at his bare chest far longer than necessary. That once she had established her friends weren't there, there really had been no need for her to stand leaning against the open door, watching.

Jack smiled at the memory. He was used to girls falling for him. He'd always had charm. Arrogance, his Dad called it. Jack preferred to call it confidence. He was confident around girls. He knew just what to say and do and the girls fell for it every time.

But Martha was different.

Fortunately it hit him before it was too late. Suddenly he knew what he'd been holding out against. He had pulled himself back from the brink just in time. You see, Martha had been fun to begin with. A challenge. Like he had with all the rest, he had got his own way with her, like all the rest he had grown used to stalling arguments with kisses. But she had challenged him too. Given as good as she got. He had enjoyed her company and he knew she enjoyed his. But then she ruined everything.

_"You're quiet tonight." _

"Just thinking."

"About me?"

"Yeah."

"About how devilishly sexy I am?"

"About how much I love you." She had looked at him, shyly, from under her long lashes but Jack had said nothing. Merely stood up and left the room. 

That night he had slept with Gypsy.

Martha had taken him back though. Sure, he had to work at it, but he never backed down from a challenge. And he hoped she had got the message, never to say anything like that ever again. Never to ruin things again. But she _did_ ruin things again. Tonight there had been genuine hurt in her eyes when she confronted him about Gypsy. And he was in too deep. He was in danger of caring and Jack Holden didn't care about chicks. Martha was the first girl he had wanted to be around for longer than a few weeks and that made her dangerous.

Looking over in her direction, he realised she'd turned her back on him. But then he had turned his back on her first. He always turned his back first.

"Why are you doing this, Jack? You know what Gypsy's like. Why are you letting her break up your relationship?" Kim's voice cut into Jack's memories, and he spun round angrily to face him.

"Gypsy hasn't broken up anything. _I_ did. Have you ever considered that maybe I just don't want to be with Martha?"

"I've seen the way you look at her. Why throw that away?" Kim challenged.

"I'm not the one who threw it away," Jack muttered sadly.

"Mate, you slept with Gypsy!" Kim exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah, well maybe I had my reasons. Maybe I'm just not cut out for relationships. At least with Gypsy it's easy, uncomplicated," Jack admitted.

"That's because Gypsy is easy, Jack. Why let her walk all over you?"

"Look who's talking! If I remember rightly, Gypsy was in bed with _you_ earlier." Jack glared at Kim. The guy was being such a hypocrite.

"That's why I know she's trouble. She's ruined things between me and Hayley."

Kim swallowed back an involuntary sob. Guys weren't supposed to cry but he was still hurting. After finding Kim and Gypsy together, Hayley had hinted she'd go out with him if he finished with Gypsy and, stoked at his chance to be with her at last, he'd done just that. Only for Hayley to laugh in his face when he told her they were over. And for Gypsy to tell him in no uncertain terms where to go.

"No, Kim, _you_ ruined things between you and Hayley. Don't go blaming Gypsy. You knew exactly what you were getting into."

Jack turned away from his friend angrily. He had no idea why he was defending Gypsy. Except that there was something about Gypsy that reminded him very much of himself.

"But Gypsy's a user," Kim protested, wondering how this argument had managed to be turned so far on its head that now he was the one having to defend his actions.

"And what the hell is wrong with that?" Jack snapped. "How dare you warn me off her when you were with her yourself? You're a bloody hypocrite, Kim Hyde!"

Jack didn't see Kim's fist coming, but he certainly felt its effect as he was knocked backwards by the blow. But he quickly regained control and launched himself straight back at Kim. Within seconds, other people surrounded them and Jack felt himself being forcibly pulled away.

"What the hell was all that about?" Noah demanded.

"Nothing," Jack replied, shrugging him off.

Storming outside, he took long, deep breaths of the rain-cooled night air in a desperate attempt to control his anger and his thoughts. Where the hell that row had come from, he had no idea. His head was pounding, the argument playing over and over in his head. Except it wasn't the argument with Kim now. This was a different argument. One he had been hearing in his mind for many years.

_The shouting had slowly grown from a dull murmur of raised voices to a full on screaming match. Abuse, yelled at the highest decibels, seemed to bounce from one parent to another like a ping pong ball. _

Six-year-old Jack had buried his head deeply under the covers... 

Next to him a sudden rustling of leaves startled him into looking up. Straight into the eyes of Gypsy.

"I think maybe we need to talk," she suggested quietly.

"Yeah," he replied. "I think we do."


	15. Chapter 15

**chapter 15**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**Families  
**_

The music was really beginning to grate on Kane Phillips's nerves now. Everything was.

The pattering rain and the shivering trees. The gloominess of the clouds and the difficulty in trying to light a smoke in the breeze. The noise from the harbour, where tourists and locals were eating, drinking and dancing the night away, even the smell of pizza floating up from the little pizza parlour directly below and the drunk staggering alone, dangerously close to the edge of the rippling water lit by the almost hypnotic wavering lines of lamplight.

The partygoers were another source of irritation. He threw the stub of another cigarette down to the ground and looked back at the party house. Now and again silhouettes emerged into the rain-streaked night, to pash, throw up or chat and smoke. A couple of people were instantly recognisable. David Molyneaux, the tallest student in Summer Bay High, was impossible to miss and Sarah Wakefield had lately dyed her hair a particularly bright shade of red that was shining like a fiery beacon. That, and the nose ring, had nearly given principal Flathead Fisher an apoplectic fit besides earning her a suspension. And Megan Ashcroft was still slumped against the same tree, where he and Hayley had passed her earlier, seemingly oblivious to all around her.

He was too far away to recognise anyone else but who cared who was here anyway? He dug his heel heavily into the soil, viciously grounding down the already lifeless cigarette. Plastic people living plastic lives in pampered bubble worlds. Yeh, well, maybe they should try living in the real world for just one day. Except it wasn't the real world. It was somewhere far darker. Where he'd always lived.

Sometimes alone in the dead of the night he could still hear her screaming. All around the Phillips' cold, loveless house were brown-red splashes of blood, reminders of where his father had flung her like a rag doll. But the worst stains of all had come from her own hand. Fresher than the rest, spurts of blood covered the bathroom, the place where she had tried to end it all. In a way she had succeeded. She "lived" now in a psychiatric hospital, eyes vacant, face pasty, wearing the strange faraway smile of the lost, gone forever into a fog of twilight inside her own mind. He'd stopped visiting. She didn't know who he was. Who anybody was anymore.

And, after the brief hiccup of Diane Phillips's suicide attempt, the Phillips' lives went on as usual.

His father solved the problem of her absence by frequent drives to a downtown red light district until one night he was nicked with a stash of drugs in the back of the truck and was awarded two years in the slammer. His older brother Scott picked up chicks, dodged working, dealed, drank, fought, and generally managed, more by luck than design, to stay one step ahead of the law. They rarely saw each other unless they passed by in some fleeting moment, Scotty maybe leading some new chick upstairs or having a new supply and impatient customers hammering down the door. They even more rarely spoke unless it was to yell at each other. Mostly he stayed out of his way. Scott had an iron fist and a penchant for violence. Rose Phillips, the widow of Dad's brother, made up the final part of the Phillips clan. Reverted to her maiden name after her husband's death and last heard of living somewhere in Yabbie Creek, there was a rumour she'd upped sticks for some big city but nobody knew anything for certain, she had long since cut all ties.

And he himself, he wandered somewhere on the edges of this twilight earth. He wasn't sure why he bothered turning up at Summer Bay High. Maybe because the education authorities might ask questions if he didn't. Maybe because it was somewhere to go out of the rain and laugh at spoilt little rich girls like Hayley Smith or pompous pathetic losers like Adam Kerr. It had even crossed his mind. Nothing to lose. Nothing to live for. Easy to picture in the silence of the wee, small hours when he woke sweating from another nightmare, where he heard again her harrowing screams at his father's punches and the heavy thwack of her body being thrown against the walls.

Once, two days after his twelfth birthday, he had tried to stop it. Only once in all those years and never again because his father had beaten him so badly and then lashed out at his wife more fiercely than ever. Five days after his twelfth birthday, when he was finally able to walk again, he asked her why she let Dad go on and on bashing her. They spoke quietly, standing by the sink where she was washing a mountain of dishes, afraid that at any moment his father or Scott, who now drank heavily too, would walk in and overhear. He strained his ears to understand because, since the day her husband had jabbed a broken glass into her mouth when she'd dared protest at his treatment of their sons who'd then been six and ten years old, she spoke with a lisp that gave her voice a peculiar accent.

She looked away and said it was all her own fault, she knew his father had a temper and yet still she did things that made him angry. She smiled then. A small, sad ghost of a smile, and in that strange broken voice, said he mustn't worry about her, she'd be right.

One day when he arrived home from school he found her half dead and floating in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he thought it would have been kinder not to have called the ambo. Or was she was happier now in that faraway smile of the lost?

Night by night so many bitter memories unfolding like an uncurled fist in this shadowland of blood and drugs and violence, in this room of crumbled, peeling wallpaper and carpet so worn that patterns had long since blurred. And then the yellow light of morning would creep uncertainly once more through the paper thin curtains and he would shake away the cobwebs of sleep to begin yet another day, still filled with anger and hatred and nowhere to unleash it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hailing from a "small backwoods hillbilly town" as Hayley called it, Martha 'Mac' Stewart still hadn't figured out the politics at Summer Bay High. Nothing to do with socio-economics and history and all that boring stuff, you understand. Summer Bay High politics were more subtle. It had to do with the way you looked, what you wore, who you dated and, like shifting sands, it could change any time. All she knew for certain was that Hayley Smith was the leading light in deciding who was part of the in crowd and who was definitely out.

Mac had been stoked when Hayley invited her to Saturday lunch at a very much _in_ bistro in Mangrove River (on a whirlwind tour of Oz, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jollie had once stopped by with their kids: to prove it, their photos were plastered all over the walls and prices had increased) if a little unsettled when Hayley began finding fault with what she was wearing.

"See, it's daggy..." Hayley fingered the too-large collar of the stripy blouse that Martha had flung on that morning without a second thought. "And so last decade, dear!"

Martha flushed as Hayley's companions giggled in appreciation of her joke and Hayley gave a supercilious smile and shook her head as she looked down at Martha's faded jeans and serviceable, comfortable boots. "Daggy clothes. No make up. Hair just...well, just _left!_ We need to get you sorted out and fast, Mac. Drag you into _this_ century."

She'd never have dreamed of telling Martha the truth: that she still looked fantastic and would have looked just as fantastic even if she'd turned up for lunch wearing rags. Hayley Smith, the most beautiful girl in Summer Bay High, was dangerously close to being upstaged. The sooner she got the newbie blending in instead of cutting a striking figure with her own unique look and natural beauty, the better. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Martha gave a small sigh. She'd never bothered with girlie stuff before and wasn't sure she wanted to bother now. "Aw, it's okay, thanks. I'm fine as I am."

"What? Don't you _want _guys to notice you?" Lisa Hanley, astonished, paused from nibbling at a healthy green salad. Lisa's weight tended to yo-yo and Hayley had recently remarked that she guzzled food like a pig and her cheeks were starting to bulge. She was always terrified of not looking good and thus being cast out of Hayley's gang. And always hungry. She stopped staring enviously at her friends' plates to stare incredulously at Martha.

"Yeh. Sure I do. But, Hayles, wouldn't they have to be pretty shallow to only care about what I _looked_ like?"

Martha looked at her new friend with wide-eyed innocence, trusting her implicitly. Hayley was sooo sophisticated. Having three older brothers, no sisters, and a Mum who'd been about as interested in girlie issues as her adopted daughter was, apart from her friends in the village (and Hayley would have dismissed them all as country bumpkins) there had hardly been any feminine influence in her life. But she had to get used to new ways, new people and places now. And she was grateful for any advice. It was kind of Hayley to go out of her way to help her fit in at Summer Bay High, where everything was so very different to what she'd been used to before.

The little village school that she had attended in the tiny farming community of Brookdown had never held more than twenty-eight kids at any one time and the students (or pupils, as Mrs Nevett, the apple-cheeked, silver-haired principal, quaintly liked to call them) regarded themselves more as an extended family than a school. In fact, four of them _had_ been from the McKenzie family: Martha and her three older brothers, two of whom were already old enough to leave for the big, wide world before Martha had even timidly created her first hand-painted print in reception class.

Brookdown School had been small and friendly. Her friends and Paul Buckley, the guy she'd been dating on and off since they were both thirteen and "just good mates", would affectionately tease her about just how often she paused to admire the football team photographs in the glass case outside Mrs Nevett's office. Brookdown School itself was too small to field its own footie team, but Chris and Tommo (always their full names of Christopher and Thomas McKenzie on the certificates and photos) were star players with the bigger and quite successful amateur team belonging to the nearby town of Hampton.

Being the two adopted kids, Michael (known as Macca) and Martha (known as Mac) were closer in age but, unlike with Chris and Tommo, there had always been an element of danger about Macca, sudden, unexpected flashes of anger, that made her feel she never really knew him even half as well as her two eldest brothers. Like Chris and Tommo, Macca was sporty and Michael McKenzie's name too appeared in the sporting roles of honour though it was obvious from the outset that he would never be clever enough to make it on the engraved inscriptions of ex-pupils who'd done Brookdown proud like Dr Christopher McKenzie and Professor Thomas McKenzie.

But the tragic accident that claimed the lives of her adopted parents had catapulted her out of the gentle cocoon of Brookdown into a strange, new life, with her grandfather Alf Stewart in Summer Bay, and, at Summer Bay High at any rate, a pretty fake one. Even Macca, unpredictable as he was, wasn't there to help her settle in, having left school that same term.

It had been a breath of fresh air when Cassie arrived. There was something so childlike and honest about her, about the way she watched everyone and everything through those large, haunted eyes.

Martha's heart lunged in pity when she saw her standing alone, hair blown about so much by the wind that it looked like several electric shocks had run through it, an overflowing school bag with a snapped strap clutched tightly to her chest, one shoe worn at the heel, looking up at the clock and back at the notice board in total confusion. She must have been aware of the laughter and whispers as Hayley scornfully pointed out "the dag", but, if she was, she didn't show it. Martha knew she should have followed the crowd. It was the way things were done here. But it wasn't the way things had been done at Brookdown and she couldn't find it in her to be mean.

Ignoring everyone, she broke away and lightly touched Cassie's elbow.

"Hey! I'm Martha. Need some help?"

She was rewarded with a smile that reminded her of the day a Brookdown neighbour's two-year-old daughter, out shopping with her mother, had wandered out of the local store and was sobbing her little heart out with fear until she'd suddenly spotted Martha, who often babysat her, and had run to her eagerly with that same heartfelt smile of trust and hope.

Cassie and Martha had been friends from that moment. Nothing could come between them. They thought.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Cass, why do you want to waste your time with Kane Phillips? He's a loser. Everyone says so."

"But you heard. You heard what Hayley said. He likes me."

"Yeh, well, don't believe everything Hayley says," Martha muttered, taking such a sudden gulp of her drink that she almost choked, and wishing she could stop watching _them._ But she couldn't.

She _was_ genuinely worried about her friend, but it was hard to concentrate on anything much when you were watching your boyfriend making a fool of himself with evil witch Gypsy Nash. She had seen Hayley flee upstairs earlier too and knew there'd be ructions that she hadn't gone to see what had upset her this time. Probably in a strop because she'd got wet or seen a spider. Whatever, it would be trivial. Hayley liked to make a fuss over nothing and star in her own little dramas. She got to look good.

Martha realised, with a stab of guilt, that she wasn't being very supportive of either of her friends. But she couldn't help it. Jack and Gypsy made her so mad that reason flew out the window and she didn't feel like being nice to anyone.

"I know why are you being like this, Mac. You're jealous of me and Kane getting together."

_"Whaaat?" _Out of the corner of her eye, Martha had just seen Jack, the mongrel, the rotten, rotten mongrel, running out after Gypsy. But Cassie's statement was so far from the truth and so un-Cassie-like in its almost vindictive tone that Martha spun round in shock, finally giving her friend her full attention.

"I'm right. You're jealous! It's written all over your face. You can't get Jack back so you want Kane. Well, tough luck, it's me he likes!"

Cassie hated talking the way she was to the only person who'd ever let her be herself. Martha accepted her just as she was and, not being two-faced herself, she was convinced Cassie's low self-esteem meant she imagined the supposed slights. But Cassie had seen it all before. She might be part of Hayley's crowd, but she knew she'd only got there by virtue of Martha being her friend. And she wasn't stupid. Hayley looked down on her and got everyone else to do the same. They told her she should wear her hair up or go for a brighter shade of lipstick and then, when she did, they laughed mockingly and said she looked awful; they'd been wrong after all.

And Martha was never around when Cassie heard someone stifle a laugh as she entered the room or thought she heard someone whisper something unflattering or strongly suspected by the abrupt silence that she'd just been the topic of discussion. She tried hard to blend in, but she knew there was something different about her. Maybe that was why her uncle had done what he did. Maybe she'd always been different. Marked.

"Fight! Fight!" Adam Kerr announced, cupping his hands round his mouth, and causing people to look round.

"Oh, ---- off and grow up, Adam!"

Judging by the brief, stunned silence around her, Cassie knew her uncharacteristic outburst had shocked everyone close by. This was all done for the benefit of Adam bloody Kerr anyway. Cassie had felt his eyes boring into her ever since he had followed Martha and herself back inside. She knew he was watching their every move, waiting for some little touch between them that he could deliberately misinterpret and stir the gossip pot with. She was talking far too loudly, partly because she'd had a few too many drinks to give herself Dutch courage, partly because she was pathetically desperate to make him see it was _guys_ she preferred.

"I don't know why I bothered asking you and Hayley in the first place. I'm going to find Kane myself. And I'm going to ask him straight if he likes me."

"Cassie..."

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare try and spoil things for me, Martha McKenzie! I'll never speak to you ever again if you try and stop me!"

"Cassie, _please..."_

Oh, God, she'd have given anything to fling her arms round Martha right now and sob on her shoulder about how mixed up she was over everything. But she couldn't, could she? People like Adam Kerr wouldn't see it as a simple need for reassurance from a friend. People like Adam Kerr would twist every word, every gesture. She'd have done anything for Martha. She was sister, best friend, Mum, all rolled into one. But she swung away now and began walking determinedly towards the open door. This night would be the first night of the rest of her life. This night, this breathless night, with its steadily falling rain, would be the night everything changed. Why was she so afraid?

She could see him in the distance, scowling down at the harbour, the rain shining on his face. She pushed up her hair and she smoothed down her clothes, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. She walked on, her footsteps silent in the soft, muddy earth, the swish of the rain obscuring all sound. Her heart reached her mouth and left her throat dry; her thoughts raced with images of her uncle and cruelly told her she was nothing and no one. So scared, so scared. So alone.

But it was what she wanted, she told herself. Once she had a relationship with a guy her own age, once she had a boyfriend, she could be normal. Couldn't she? Kane was like herself. An outsider. He'd understand and he'd be kind. Wouldn't he? Cassie couldn't take any more of being hurt.

"Hey, Kane," she said sexily, putting her hand on his shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**Ghosts **_

Something glittered in the flicker of moonlight that trickled through the pencil-thin gap where she had opened the curtains - just a fraction. Afraid of the dark and afraid of the light. Afraid to be alone and afraid to be seen. Hayley's hand trembled as she stretched down from the comfort of the bed and the duvet wrapped around her shoulders and reached, with difficulty, towards the glitter of what she imagined to be a lost ear-ring - only to hear herself give a small, strangled scream of terror as her fingers grasped and immediately dropped the object.

The eye rolled somewhere under the bed. Watching.

Oh, for God's sake, she'd end up as loopy as Crazy Cassie if she carried on freaking herself out like this! There was nothing to be afraid of. There were heaps of people here. Normality. Music thudding, laughter and voices and sounds of partying. Freddie Teddy was in the bin and his missing glass eye could join the rest of him in the final goodbye to childhood. Hayley pushed back the duvet and got up off the bed. She swept her hand across the carpet where the eye must have fallen. No use. She needed more light. The sooner it was in the bin, the better. Even if it did only belong to a stupid stuffed toy, it was strangely unnerving, knowing it was there. She scrambled up to her feet and drew the floor-length curtains fully back across the wooden pole. Brighter now. Reassuring.

The view from Hayley's bedroom was magnificent. Far away and monochrome in the silver moonlight, always reminding her of a TV documentary about African wildlife by night that Nick had got her to watch with him once (at the time, Nick had been trying to persuade their new Mum and Dad to let him have a tiger cub as a pet and was getting as many people as he could onside) the shadowy trees of the Whitelady Copse huddled together in secret whispers and swayed in the hushed breeze, as if expecting some unnamed danger to emerge any moment. Nearer, the river, with its boats and colourful harbour lights, always reminded her of something else.

Ghosts.

Black clouds rolled ominously across the sky and she shivered. The day they'd planted the sapling, Will, intrigued by the long disused and ivy-covered restaurant up the steps at the end of the harbour, had tried to spook everyone by swearing, deadpan, he'd seen the ghost of the white lady who supposedly rose from the river and, wailing and wringing her hands, walked up the winding stone steps to disappear inside. But only Hayley had been spooked. Nothing ever fazed Nick while George Smith only laughed and Julie Smith frowned at the "nonsense". Though she wasn't entirely sure she even believed in them, ghost stories always spooked Hayley. Maybe because, if they existed, they would feel exactly how she had felt ever since she'd been five years old and their new parents had taken in Will, Nick and herself. _On the outside, looking in._

She was the most beautiful, most popular girl in Summer Bay High and people hung on her every word, but nobody had bothered to come up and see if she was alright. Nobody. Not even her own brother, who'd been far too busy sucking the face off snobby Dani Sutherland. Maybe Nick, if he'd been here instead of wrapped up in his Hollywood career, might have been worried about her. But she doubted it.

Freddie Teddy's mutilated remains, hacked at with her nails and small, sharp scissors, were dumped in the bin. Childhood dreams were long dead. Julie Smith was in Hollywood with Nick, living the high life shopping till she dropped, arranging to have a face lift, boob job and her own personal trainer, bragging about her movie star son. George Smith had various meetings in the city and was staying over in a plush hotel for a couple of days, leaving Will in charge of the house and trusting him to deal with any business queries that may arise while he was away - after all, as he remarked to Will, with Nick off pursuing his acting dream, the property empire would be in Will's capable hands when he eventually retired. Of Hayley, nobody expected anything. They never had done.

The day she, Will and Nick had planted the tree, their very first week here in Summer Bay, she'd hoped things might change. But they hadn't. She was still on the outside, looking in. She always would be. Sometimes she even toyed with the idea of setting their home on fire, just to shake them up and make them realise she was _alive._ At least at Summer Bay High she was someone who counted. Anyone who crossed Hayley Smith learnt never to cross her again.

Phil Wainwright, the gawky student teacher, hadn't lasted the term after pulling Hayley up in front of the whole class over her English assignment. All she had to do was flutter her long eyelashes and pout her full lips and there was never any shortage of guys willing to take revenge on her behalf. Kane Phillips deserved payback. She hadn't decided how yet, but she would. Hayley looked thoughtfully out at the night.

And that was when she saw the couple. She knew it was him. And she was certain, though she had her back to her, that the dark-haired, tall, thin figure was Cassie. She watched, feeling nauseous with disgust, repulsed as his hands snaked over the girl's body, as the wind gained a new strength and rain tapped against the window once more, in small, light, steady drops.

Like teardrops.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I thought you wanted it?"

"I did...I do..."

"Then what the matter?"

"It all seems a bit...a bit rushed." Cassie forced a smile and wished she could stop shaking inside. After all, he wasn't her uncle. He was a guy her own age and other chicks made out with guys their own age. And she so wanted to be like other chicks.

"Sorry, darlin', there wasn't time to do the candlelit dinner. But maybe next time..." Kane Phillips said sarcastically.

Jeez, what was wrong with these bloody chicks? All wanting to play games. They offered it to you and then pulled away as soon as you took them up on it. Well, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass by like he'd passed up his chance with Princess Hayley.

The sarcasm sailed over Cassie's head. Naively, she really thought he meant it. She closed her eyes as his mouth pressed hard on her own and tried to ignore her terror as his body pressed against hers and his tongue poked inside her mouth. She took her mind to a small, cosy restaurant, to candlelight glistening on glasses of red wine which a solemn waiter was pouring as she and Kane, he looking at her in starry eyed adoration, held hands across a white-linen covered table adorned with flowers and...

"What wrong now?" Kane demanded.

"Nothing, nothing!" Cassie was furious with herself for breaking away a second time and looked away from his angry glare.

It had been a reflex action. Every time her uncle had forced himself on her, she had pulled away, sick with disgust. It should be different with a normal guy, shouldn't it? Okay, she'd been on a date with Adam Kerr and it had been a disaster, but she just hadn't been ready when he made a pass. And, anyway, she'd never really liked Adam Kerr whereas bad boy Kane Phillips, with his blue eyes, lazy grin and smouldering danger only had to glance her way to make her heart skip several beats.

Cassie had always gone for the bad guy in movies but it wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be like the movies, where the guy cupped his hands round the girl's face, gazed into her eyes and whispered _I love you _? Was she...was she too ugly for that? In all the romances she'd ever read - and she'd read heaps, especially before she came to Summer Bay High, in the days before she'd had any friends - the heroine was inevitably described as beautiful. A dark-eyed beauty or a slim, pretty blonde or a stunning red-head with a figure that curved in all the right places. Ugly people didn't fall in love. People like Cassie didn't fall in love.

Kane Phillips wished he knew how to talk to chicks. Sure, she was three bricks short of a full load, but she was a total babe, hot and up for it. It wasn't that he particularly cared about her feelings, but he was all fired up here so he _did_ care about having her change her mind at the last minute. Crazy Cassie was notorious for changing her mind.

Like when she'd turned up for a lunch-time debate on school uniform (he was there because it was raining cats and dogs) made herself comfortable, set out all her paperwork, drew her breath to make the first speech...and then abruptly walked out, leaving everyone, after the initial stunned silence, crying with laughter. Or the time she'd ordered a sanga in the school caff and claimed the serving assistant had misheard the order: she hadn't asked for egg mayo, she'd asked for tuna mayo, and she NEVER ate eggs. The assistant said she'd heard the order perfectly well thank you, and a heated argument developed while an interested crowd gathered round to watch and Crazy Cassie grew redder and redder. Eventually, she'd backed down, said she _had_ wanted egg mayo after all, paid up and fled - without the sanga. There was a rumour she'd locked herself in a store cupboard for a full hour afterwards.

To say Crazy Cassie was weird was an understatement. Sometimes she would be in the thick of the conversation with Hayley's crowd; other times she would ignore everyone and press herself so far back against the wall it seemed as though she was trying to blend herself in with it. Or she would sit on the very edge of her seat and, making a strange humming sound, rock herself back and forth until she suddenly became aware of where she was and what she was doing. Only Martha McKenzie could ever talk her round though nobody could understand why someone as cool as Martha chose to hang round with a weirdo. But, hey, a chick was a chick, crazy or not, and he was a normal, red-blooded male.

"Bit cold and damp out here. How about we book us a room inside?"

A flicker of a smile crossed Cassie's anxious face. He cared about her! He cared about her being cold.

"Yeh. Okay."

Nice smile, nice eyes, Kane Phillips noted vaguely, and this time she seemed okay when he drew her close as they walked back towards the house. They both knew where this was going so what the ---- had all the earlier drama been about? Jeez, chicks were a bloody mystery to him!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Martha!"

Martha swung round, guilty at being caught out. Not that there was anything to be caught out about. She couldn't hear them. She couldn't see them. But just _knowing_ they had gone out there, her Jack, her lovely, lovely, sweet Jack, and that man-eater Gypsy Nash was enough. And she had been torturing herself with wild imaginings of what might be happening out there ever since. Wondering if they were pashing or whispering in each other's ears or maybe even making out in Whitelady Copse.

Hayley had a good point when she remarked that Gypsy's olds should have named her Martini (_any time, any place, anywhere_). Martha bit her lip. She never used to be so bitchy. She'd only got like this since coming to Summer Bay High. Since Jack had broken her heart and her best friend had turned on her. Poor Cassie was so innocent about guys, with all her talk about needing a boyfriend. Ha! Boys! You were better off without them. Martha was still blinking back tears and trying to tell herself _he_ wasn't worth crying over when Hayley's voice broke into her thoughts.

She had been standing by the door, holding the same drink, ever since Cassie had gone in search of Kane. A couple guys had hopefully asked if she wanted a refill, but she'd only smiled and shook her head and made like she was waiting for someone. Standing near Cassie's own drink, which Cassie had slammed down as she stormed out, probably gave more credence to her act. Anyhow, she _was_ waiting for someone. Though she knew the minute he walked inside she would walk away like she didn't care, grateful for the dark because tears would sting her eyes. She circled her finger round the rim of the glass and tried to think up a quick excuse. Hayley wouldn't lose a chance to mock if she saw she was upset.

"Why didn't you come up to see how I was?" Hayley demanded in her usual imperious way.

But, to Martha's bewilderment, her voice tapered off and quavered before it reached the end of the question. She looked up curiously. Her friend was unusually pale. And in her eyes there was a strange aloneness that Martha had never seen before. She forgot about lame excuses and Hayley's natural bitchiness. Her heart lurched in sympathy.

"Hey, you okay, Hales? What's happened?"

Hayley pulled herself together. The experience with Kane Phillips had shaken her to the core, but she had to remember that she was the stunningly beautiful Hayley Smith, super rich family, movie star brother, heartthrob older brother, and the stunningly beautiful Hayley Smith didn't take sympathy from wannabes. She didn't know what had made her run downstairs in the first place. Who cared what happened to Crazy Cassie? She'd had tickets on herself ever since she came to Summer Bay High.

"Your daggy mate. It's her own fault," she replied coolly.

"Cass?" Martha stared at Hayley blankly, turning icy cold. Cassie was like a kid sister to her. Kane Phillips might be rough, but he'd never hurt her - would he? Has...has something happened to Cass?"

Hayley shrugged dismissively. "Who knows? She's out there with that mongrel. Still, they go together well, don't they? Cassie can be a bitch when she wants to be."

Martha bristled. Hayley was obviously jealous. She may be queen bee at Summer Bay High but Kane Phillips didn't play to anyone's rules but his own. She was probably in a strop because he'd no doubt told her to rack off when she made a move on him.

"Don't be mean. Cassie's sweet."

Hayley tossed back her long, silky blonde hair, noticed some random guy watching, and turned the casual move into something more while pretending she hadn't seen him.

"Cassie's sweet." Adam Kerr suddenly mocked in a high-pitched voice, making Hayley giggle.

Where the hell had he sprung from, Martha wondered irritably. Adam Kerr had a habit of sneaking around listening to conversations that didn't concern him almost as if materialised up from beneath the floor.

Adam smirked at Martha's annoyed expression and blew soft, warm air on the back of Hayley's neck, making her shiver with delight. They had always got on well together. They both appreciated the beautiful people and had no time for the losers and dags. Adam would have liked to take their friendship further, but Hayley wasn't interested though she loved the attention. Still, he'd never given up hope and was always out to impress her. He whispered something in Hayley's ear now that made her gasp and her eyes widen. She giggled again and she and Adam looked at Martha in a way that made Mac feel suddenly very uncomfortable though she didn't know why.

She turned away. She was sick of having people bag her out when she tried to help them. Stuff Hayley! Stuff Cassie! Stuff everyone! Most of all, stuff Jack Holden for breaking her heart. This was a party, wasn't it? Well, she was going to enjoy herself. She was going to get absolutely stinking rotten blind drunk.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kane Phillips whistled as he strolled home, absently jingled some loose coins in his pocket, realised there were a few dollars in there keeping them company and wondered whether to round off the night in Sam's Bar. Nobody asked questions about your age in Sam's Bar. Generally, nobody asked questions about anything. Safer that way.

Sam's Bar was dark, dingy and dismal and wasn't very picky about its clientele: fights frequently broke out about nothing in particular and it was dangerous to even look at anyone sideways. But its beer was strong and cheap and you could get blotto without much cash or snort a line of coke without pigs hassling. He looked towards the door where an ageing hell's angel with long, filthy hair and nicotine stained fingers was staggering out with his arm round a stick thin teenage girl who seemed to be high on smack. Nah. Maybe not such a good idea after all. Sam's Bar was often a favourite haunt of his brother and his mates and he didn't relish bumping into Scotty.

Instead he headed down to the harbour, to a quiet, hidden place where he and Scotty used to play as kids, to sit on the wooden pier where brightly-painted boats creaked on the dark river. ---- the ciggies he'd been smoking at Princess Hayley's prissy pop party! He rolled a joint and filled his lungs. Crazy Cassie was beautiful and sexy and had been an awesome lay. She'd seemed a bit strange when he left but who knew what went on in that loopy mind of hers? He had no intention of repeating the experience anyway. Couldn't cope with those bloody weird mood swings!

He grinned as he gazed up at the cloud-laden sky. Hayley's party had been the pits, but it had ended up being a fantastic night.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Cassie caught her reflection in the moonlit mirror. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Shoulders too thin, hair too greasy, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"It's what you deserve," she whispered.

Her reflection hung her head in shame and shed yet more tears but Cassie had no sympathy for her. She had brought it all on herself. They had gone back in the house through a small side window hidden from view by bushes, and, like all the windows were, flung open to let some air slice into the stifling heat generated by so many bodies crowded together. Cassie, surprised, asked him how he even knew the window was there in the first place.

"Lucky guess," he shrugged, his hand lingering far too long on the small of her back as he helped her climb inside.

She wasn't a piece of raw meat to be pawed at every opportunity, Cassie thought angrily. But if she objected he might go off her, mightn't he? And then she wouldn't have a boyfriend and she'd never get to be normal. So she ignored her annoyance and asked how he knew too about the winding narrow staircase they were hurrying up - too fast for Cassie's liking - when she'd only been aware of the wide, sweeping staircase before.

"Another lucky guess, what do you reckon?" Kane replied drily.

He, Scotty and a couple of mates had done the place over a few years ago, before the Smiths had moved there. Hadn't been a bad haul either, he recollected, and they'd managed to offload the goodies pretty fast. At the top of the stairs were a couple of doors, each leading to a medium-sized bedroom with a double bed, built-in wardrobe and dresser and its own adjoining en suite bathroom. Grinning, Kane pushed open first one door and then the other with a flourish.

"Which one then, babe? We got a choice."

The guest bedrooms, rarely used due to there being a couple of larger, more comfortable guest bedrooms at the front of the large house, were always kept well aired and with clean bed linen and soft, fluffy towels neatly folded in the drawers underneath the beds in case of unexpected visitors. Thinking of her own cramped bathroom at home, Cassie caught her breath in awe as she looked round at the en suite bathroom, with its roomy shower cubicle and power shower, pristine white loo and bidet, and wondered what it was like to be mega rich like Hayley, who no doubt took it all for granted. Like the rest of the students at Summer Bay High, Cassie had no idea that the Smiths were adopted. Will would have been quite open about their past except Hayley had begged him not to tell anyone and Nick, who, fortunately for Hayley because Nick talked too much to keep secrets, had already been "discovered" at his drama school and was on his way to Hollywood within months of moving to the Bay.

She felt the comforting warmth of Kane's arms enveloping her waist and, despite his breath smelling of beer and tobacco, enjoyed the feeling of his chin burrowing into her left shoulder and his face stubble tickling her cheek. She began to relax. Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all. Maybe he would...And then, to her terror, his hands went inside her top and cupped her breasts and he began raining hot, hard kisses on her neck.

Cassie froze. "Stop it! I can't!" Her voice came out a low, frightened squeak.

It was his turn to break away. "Jee-zus!" He furiously lit a cigarette. "Can't you make up your ------- mind?"

A lump came to Cassie's throat. Why couldn't he be kinder? It wasn't her fault. Her only previous sexual experience had been the unwanted advances of her uncle and that was sick and sordid and disgusting.

"I'm okay," she whispered, turning to face him.

Why was he being like this? He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen and sometimes in those eyes she'd even thought she'd seen a gentler side to him. But those same blue eyes were looking at her so coldly now. Maybe it _was_ her fault after all, for trying his patience, Cassie thought in her usual self-effacing way that would have had Martha blazing.

"You sure _this time?" _He demanded. "Because if it's not gonna happen, babe, we both might as well forget it and go ho..."

"No! I swear. I'm okay now."

"I'm not forcing you, darlin'"

"I'm fine, honest." Cassie lied.

She hated it when he said _darlin' _in that sarcastic way. And she was far from fine. She was so scared that she was sure her heart was going to jump out of her chest.

"Okay, let's go for it!"

She was pathetically grateful that he sounded more cheerful as he stomped his cigarette out on the carpet and pulled her to him and they fell together on the bed. There were fresh-smelling candy striped sheets inside the drawer and a duvet at the bottom of the bed, but Kane Phillips was in too much of a hurry to bother with niceties. He tugged at her clothes and pulled off his own and Cassie flushed as he tore open a small plastic wrapper and she saw the condom.

It was over in minutes.

She closed her eyes and listened to the distant party music and his heavy breaths and grunts. She tried to pretend she didn't mind the smell of sweat, smoke and alcohol and the weight of his body. But she hated every moment. At last he gave a long, satisfied sigh as he finished and rolled off her.

When she opened her eyes again he was pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt.

"Thanks," he said, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. And then he was gone, his footsteps running downstairs echoing around the room as she traced the line below her eye where the butterfly kiss still lingered. Burning shame into her.

And after a while Cassie sat up and caught her reflection staring at her from the wardrobe mirror. Her lipstick had smeared, her hair was a mess and her eyes were bloodshot with tears. Gulping back a sob, she grabbed her clothes up off the floor and held them to her body to cover her nakedness.

"Slag," her reflection mouthed.

No moon, no stars, no gentle lapping of the sea or sigh of the breeze. No velvet night or tender kisses lying in the arms of someone who loved her. Oh, no dreams! No dreams anymore. Cassie knelt on the bed, hiding her face in her crumpled clothes and sobbing uncontrollably.


	17. Chapter 17

**chapter 17**

_**written by I love music **_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

****

_**Fools**_

_**  
**_  
Kim dabbed gingerly at his cut lip. A bruise had already come up on his left cheekbone and that swollen eye would no doubt be black and blue by tomorrow. He was a sorry sight now and he would be an even sorrier sight in the morning. He tossed the bloodied paper tissue into the pedal bin and carefully studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He may _look_ a sorry sight but no way was he sorry about laying into Jack. He was glad he'd told the guy a few home truths. Gypsy _had_ ruined his chances with Hayley. Gypsy _was_ a user. Jack Holden needed to wake up and smell the coffee.

More salty blood trickled into his mouth and impatiently Kim snatched another tissue out of the box on the shelf. To his absolute horror, angry tears stung his eyes. If his Dad saw him now, he'd be disgusted. Barry Hyde reckoned tears were for women. He was always berating his son for not being strong enough, clever enough, good enough. A bitter memory of childhood flashed into Kim's mind.

_"Are you a man or a mouse?" Barry Hyde demanded, his eyes like flint."That's even worse than before!" _

Praise never came to Barry's lips. The only thing his son was good at, he conceded, was swimming and lately he hadn't even been doing that very well.

Kim fought back tears, wiped a hand across his sniffling nose and accidentally gulped water. He was twelve years old. It was five thirty on a chilly Saturday morning and he was tired. Other kids his age were lounging in bed at this time, not slicing their way through a choppy sea. The weather was too miserable even for water sport enthusiasts with no wind and only an introspective dull white sky, laden with cloud. Probably it would pick up drastically later - it usually did when the sun broke through around six - but right now the only people on an almost deserted beach were a dog walker and a couple of hardened swimmers.

He wanted to answer "Neither. I'm just a kid! Can't you see I'm just a kid?" But instead he muttered apologetically, "Sorry, Dad."

"Let's try again," Barry suggested, sighing heavily as he clicked the stopwatch. "Go!"

And, tired though he was, Kim turned and swam out once more, his arms furiously pounding the water as though his very life depended on it. Desperate to please his father. Because he'd give anything, anything to break into that cold reserve. 

They were all each other had. He never remembered it being any other way.

Kim had naturally asked about his mother, but Barry Hyde was a closed book. Dead, was all he was told. Tragic accident, was the only response to further questioning; when Kim was old enough he could make his own enquiries, but he himself did not wish to discuss it any further. End of conversation. Shutters down.

Kim often speculated the reason his father was so emotionless must have been because his mother's death broke his heart. But there were no relatives to deny or confirm his theory. Nobody at all he could ask. Maybe one day his Dad would confide in him. When he was twelve, he hoped that by making him proud through his swimming they'd establish a father/son bond, but, five years on and several swimming trophies later, it still hadn't happened. These days he was still desperately trying to make his Dad proud of him. But now he had a new tactic.

Normally Barry Hyde liked to move on. Kim had lost count of the number of times they'd upped sticks and packed crates, boxes and suitcases for yet another school in yet another town, as though his father was afraid that staying too long anywhere might turn him into a pillar of salt. But Summer Bay breathed a little magic and captivated him.

Or rather Irene Roberts did.

For the first time in memory Kim saw his father begin to crack. Suddenly he smiled more, his shoulders were no longer held ex-soldier square but were more relaxed; he still walked with purpose, but with lighter step. One day, without thinking, he actually hugged his son! It was a quick, spontaneous gesture, just after he'd been speaking to Irene on the phone.

Barry self-consciously cleared his throat. "Irene said yes to the theatre," he explained, trying to recover his usual stoic equilibrium.

"That's fantastic!" Kim smiled and his father smiled awkwardly back.

They stood looking at each other, shuffling in embarrassment, neither quite knowing what to say or do next, but with a glimmer of hope shining timidly on the horizon. And then, before it had got off the ground, hope crashed and died. Irene and Barry ended their relationship although they remained friends. His father went back into his shell and Kim went back to searching all over again for that elusive chink in his armour. And, amazingly enough, he found it.

His father _did_ have a weakness: Hayley Smith.

It had been an unguarded moment, during the period when Barry was dating Irene. They were sitting in the Diner when Hayley had come up to explain why there was absolutely no chance of her homework assignment being handed in by tomorrow. It was a flimsy excuse and the stern, unbending principal of Summer Bay High normally took no prisoners, but, without a murmur of protest, he agreed to overlook Hayley's apparent total inability to sit down for an hour or so some time over the weekend and study Australia's imports and exports.

"That one can wrap you round her little finger," Irene smiled as she placed their mugs of hot chocolate on the table. "What's her secret?"

"She looks like Emma. Today's the anniversary of her death." Barry's voice was hoarse with emotion and Kim looked up in astonishment.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Irene placed a consoling hand on Barry's shoulder.

But Kim could only stare blankly. "Emma? Who's Emma?"

"Your father's younger sister who died of leukemia when she was fourteen." Irene frowned at Kim, obviously thinking him hard-hearted not to have remembered, unaware that until then Kim had never even heard of Emma.

"Dad, I..." He began sympathetically.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it," Barry replied. Subject closed. Permanently.

But Hayley, Kim noticed, had him eating out of her hand. And suddenly Kim had the answer to all his problems. The way to impress his Dad was by dating Hayley!

Being the son of the principal wasn't easy. Initially other students were wary of him, clamming up mid conversation and rarely including him in anything. Until they realised nothing ever, ever got back to his father and Kim was a decent enough bloke. Neither clever nor stupid, his only talent being for swimming, he simply fitted in, although his natural shyness and lack of confidence held him back. Girls, Kim reckoned, blissfully unaware of his Greek god status at Summer Bay High, wouldn't look at him twice and he didn't blame them. So, while he'd been busy trying to impress Hayley Smith, he was astonished and flattered when sex siren Gypsy Nash, the chick all the guys at Summer Bay High talked about how they'd like to score with and boasted about how it was if they already had, showed an interest. No other girl had shown an interest in him before.

Tonight it was though all his Christmases came at once when she whispered in his ear it was time he became a man. She led him upstairs, pushed him gently on to the bed and undressed him slowly, sexily, making him wait. He was putty in her hands. Blond hair, blue eyes, muscles, fit, he was _gorgeous_ - and a good, considerate lover too, Gypsy told him afterwards, slithering her naked body on top of him, making him think he would die of happiness. She leaned over him, smiling, her elbow propped up on the pillow to rest her chin, her beautiful tousled red hair falling down and tickling his face.

"You're not a boy anymore," she drawled, drawing imaginary circles on his chest with her finger, while he could only grin up at her like a fool, a song from his Dad's CD collection playing out in his mind:

_I recall a gypsy woman  
silver spangles in her eyes  
ivory skin against the moonlight  
and the taste of life's sweet wine..._

And then Hayley's voice suddenly cut into the moment and shattered the illusion.

"Oh, my God! You...you bitch! And, Kim, I thought better of _you!_ I really thought you liked me!"

Gypsy smirked, her face shining with triumph, and it was only then he realised. How could he have been so stupid? He'd been nothing more than a pawn in Gypsy's game of revenge. He leapt from the bed, struggling clumsily into his pants, calling after her. He caught up with her on the landing and she turned, dabbing her eyes and sniffing delicately. "Finish with Gypsy and I might consider going out with you."

He did what she asked immediately. She couldn't have failed to hear his ultimatum.

"You used me, Gypsy. You know it and I know it. It's over."

Gypsy didn't bother answering. She had her head bent, brushing her hair and he half suspected she was laughing.

Hayley was waiting where he'd left her, no longer dabbing her eyes.

"I heard. Well done!" she said, before he opened his mouth. "But you think I'd go out with someone who went with that slag?"

He caught hold of her arm. She laughed and shrugged him off. Ignoring amused onlookers who were gathering like vultures to watch, he begged over and over to no avail. Adam Kerr came and put his arm round Hayley's shoulders and they went off together. Desperate, he raced back to Gypsy. She was dressing as though nothing had happened. She couldn't know how important it was to him that he and Hayley became an item. How could he tell her his Dad despised him for being who he was?

"Please, Gyps. Please, please tell her. I wasn't thinking straight, all that drinking..."

She didn't even look at him. She was too busy checking her newly-applied lipstick in the mirror, pursing her lips and pouting.

"You think I give two cents about you and Hayley? Maybe you shouldn't keep your brains in your trousers in future. Now rack off!" She laughed, flicked back her hair, and walked out on him.

Chick or not, some guys would have been incensed enough to run after her and slap the smug smile off her face. Kim wasn't that kind of guy. No matter what they did, he'd never disrespect a woman. He sat down on the bed, angry, hurt and humiliated, not caring who saw him now. His Dad was right. He was hopeless. The principal's son and he was a standing joke, running round in his boxers, pleading, while people sniggered.

After a while he snatched up his clothes and dressed. By the time he returned to the party, Gypsy had already moved on. Jack was her next victim. Stupid, deluded Jack. Refusing to listen to reason when Kim tried to warn him. And look where trying to warn Jack had got him! His father's voice was echoing in Kim's memory as it had done so often before.

_"You're useless, Kim! Can't you do anything right? Are you a complete idiot?"_

He remembered himself, bleary-eyed, eleven or twelve, waking up with a burning throat, longing to snuggle back down under the bedclothes.

_"Dad, I don't wanna go swimming today..." _

"Don't be so pathetic. If I can sacrifice my day off to get up early and coach you, the least you can do is go." 

Tears dimmed his eyes. He splashed some water on his face, furious with himself for crying. Someone hammered on the bathroom door.

"---- off! This isn't the only bloody bathroom in this mansion!" he yelled in annoyance.

"Kim? It's Will, mate. You okay?"

Will! Why hadn't he thought of it before? Will could help him out! Maybe he could salvage something from this disaster after all. Kim almost dragged his friend inside.

"Will, I need for you to put in a good word for me with Hayley and..."

"No way!" Will interrupted vehemently.

Kim stared at him in disbelief. "Come on, man, you know how my Dad is. You know how much of a loser he thinks I am. But he's got a soft spot for Hayley. She reminds him of his sister or something, who died when she was a kid. And I fancy Hayley, what guy in his right mind wouldn't? If I got with her, he'd be real impressed."

"I'm not doing it," Will insisted.

"Will, I'm begging you here..."

"No."

"Call yourself a mate? Please, Will, you don't know what it's like. You've always had everything, all this, handed to you on a plate." Kim waved his hand expansively and not a little enviously. Will had it all.

Will sighed, wishing he could tell Kim the truth. But Hayley had begged him to never tell anyone of their humble beginnings. "It's not a good idea. Hayley likes mind games..."

He stopped, suddenly feeling disloyal towards his kid sister. Whatever Hayley was, and Will was no fool, he was well aware of how vindictive she could be, she adored her older brother. Okay, so sometimes she threw hissy fits and chucked things at him, but afterwards, when Will had calmed her down, she would always whisper an apology. Hastily, condescendingly, like she was doing him a great favour, but Will saw the same neediness in her eyes that had been there when she was only five years old. Desperate to know that the only person in her life who had always been there for her wouldn't desert her.

"Look, all I'm saying is, Hayles is young for her age. She's got a lot of growing up to do yet. So I'm not gonna help you get with her. For your own good. And forget Gypsy! Gypsy's a lowlife. She'd twist the knife and laugh at the same time. I should know!"

Will couldn't hide his bitterness. He'd fallen for Gypsy and she'd stringed him along, letting him believe she felt the same way. Until she showed herself in her true colours.

On an impulse he'd bought her a beautiful little expensive gold heart pendant, and, in a sudden rush of romance, had written a short poem telling her how much she meant to him. He knew it wasn't a very good poem - Will's literary abilities left a lot to be desired - but he meant every single word. Smiling to himself as he pictured her delight, he placed the note inside the box with the pendant and wrapped it carefully in specially chosen gift wrap decorated with single red roses and tied with red ribbon in a heart-shaped bow. Gypsy seemed thrilled with the gift. She said he was sweet and they kissed passionately as they fell together on the bed.

Exactly two days later, he heard what she really thought.

She was sitting on the beach, as usual wearing next to nothing, flirting with and being chatted up by a couple of random guys she'd obviously just met while sunbathing and waiting for Will. She had her back to him, busy reading out mockingly the short poem he'd written with so much love, and as she finished she scrunched up the paper and threw it into her bag and zipped it up, saying she'd only kept it for amusement. And then, as all three laughed together, she went on to tell them what a dipstick he was. He was a poor little rich boy, Gypsy said, who hoped money would buy him love. But _she_ believed in having fun.

She saw him too late. Her eyes widened, but it was hard to read that look in her face. Something more than fear, something more than regret.

"Will..." she said, in a strange kind of choked voice that he'd never heard her use before.

"Don't bother. Have your fun," he said shortly, cut to the quick.

White faced with anger, he headed home. Hayley saw him and demanded to know what the matter was and, against his better judgement, he told her because he had to sound off to someone. How he stopped her from going down to the beach there and then and scratching Gypsy's eyes out he never knew. She had never liked Gypsy, never thought he was good enough for her brother, some long running feud that easygoing Will dismissed as chick stuff and didn't take much notice of. Well, looked like Hayles had been right all along. Much as he liked Dani, Will would never allow himself to fall in love again. And it was his duty to protect his mates too.

"Play the field. There are heaps of other chicks," he advised Kim now.

"So you're saying you won't help?"

"I'm saying you can do a helluva lot better than Hayley and Gypsy."

"Well, thanks for nothing! Can't be bothered helping me warn Jack off Gypsy! Can't be bothered putting in a good word for me with your sister! Some ------- mate!"

Kim pushed him aside and stormed off. He stood outside, breathing in the cool night air. Was he a fool like his Dad always said? Look what Gypsy had done and yet he even felt guilty for what he'd said to Jack about her. He'd never treat a girl badly. He had respect for them, no matter what they did. So why did Hayley despise him? Did chicks actually prefer b-----ds like Kane Phillips or something? Half the time Phillips spoke to girls like trash, like they were just something to use, and yet both Hayley and Crazy Cassie had tried to hit on him tonight.

He made his way over to a fallen log and sat alone, resting his elbow on his knees, chin in hands, wondering, as so many had wondered before him, what the hell life and love was all about as he gazed dry-eyed at the silent starlight.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gypsy swallowed. "Thanks. For defending me after what Kim said. But I'm not worth defending. Really."

She was busy ripping a large leaf that she'd torn off some random plant to shreds. She didn't know why. It was a habit she'd had ever since she was a kid, snatching at plants that were poking through railings as they passed by gardens or pulling up blades of grass in the park . Her Mum said she was naturally destructive. Maybe she was. Why had she destroyed Kim as well as Hayley? Hayley needed putting in her place, but poor Kim had just been caught in the crossfire. And yet she'd targeted him and made him suffer too.

"Why would you think that you're not worth defending?"

Jack's hand brushed hers and she almost wept to see the concern in his face. She didn't deserve kindness. She looked down, partly because she was still feeling the effects of too much alcohol, partly because she couldn't bear him being so nice after everything she'd done.

"You know what they say, Jack," she muttered. "I'm the school bike. Gypsy Nash. Slag. And it's true."

"I sleep around and get called a stud. A chick sleeps around gets called a slag. How's that fair?"

Gypsy looked up and bit her lip. "You're a nice guy, Jack Holden."

"You're not too bad yourself, Gypsy Nash."

They smiled. He took hold of both her hands and for several moments they looked into each other's eyes. Jack leaned forward and Gypsy tilted her head towards him. For the first time since either could remember, the kiss wasn't a cold, emotionless act or a prelude to sex. It was a kiss between two friends who genuinely wanted to show they cared. Like a first ever kiss, like a first ever love. Slow and gentle, shy and uncertain, tender and warm as the gentle breath of the summer night, afterwards leaning against each other in silent companionship.

"I sleep around because I don't like me. I feel I'm not worth liking," Gypsy confided at last in a whisper, leaning against his chest, feeling a comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I sleep around because I won't let myself trust anyone. Maybe it's _me _I don't trust," Jack whispered back. "What a couple of dorks, hey? I want Martha, you want Will and neither of them wants to know. Makes you think, if we can't be with the one we want, we could do a lot worse than the one who understands."

"Agreed."

"So..." Jack hesitated as an idea suddenly came to him, uncharacteristically hoping he wasn't being too forward. "Why don't _we_ become an item? I mean, if...if you you'd like to, that is."

Gypsy dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically bashful. "Are you serious? I'd like it, heaps, but...with _me? _The school bike? Are you sure you'd want to?"

"Stop bagging yourself out. You're not the school bike, you're the school stud. _I'm_ the school bike. Are _you_ sure you'd want to be with _me?"_

Gypsy laughed. "Deal!"

"Deal!" Jack echoed, kissing her forehead and holding her tight. The rain had finally ceased and as the grey clouds slid sulkily away towards the sea more and more stars began to dance and twinkle through the darkness.

They watched them together, dreaming dreams, warm in each other's arms.

_I Recall a Gypsy Woman © Bob McDill/Allen Reynolds_


	18. Chapter 18

**chapter 18**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**Loneliness **_

_  
_  
_Get. This. Into. Your. Thick. Head. You. Are. Alone. You. Always. Will. Be._

Cassie deliberately spelled it out in her head because she was obviously too stupid to understand. She had to be all cried out now. Her eyes were bloodshot, her throat was sore and her nose was red from so much blowing. The neat little bin in the pristine bathroom was filled with crumpled sheets of toilet paper because nearly a whole loo roll had gone on drying her eyes before she realised there was a box of tissues. But Cassie expected things like that from herself. She was stupid.

She wiped a hand across her face and shower gel out of her eyes (_See? Stupid!_) and felt powerful jets of hot water rain down on her body yet again. She scrubbed herself feverishly, arguing inside her head.

_I'm not stupid... _

_Oh, yeh? Why'd you let your uncle and Kane do what they did then?_

_I didn't exactly LET them..._

_Well, I seem to remember you invited Kane..._

_Stop it, Cassie, stop it!_

She forced herself to draw a breath, turned the dial to off, slid open the cubicle door and wrapped herself in the fluffy white bathrobe provided. Surely she'd be clean this time? Surely she wouldn't feel again the searing heat of his body on hers, of his hands touching her where she hadn't wanted to be touched? If she waited long enough...?

But she had no sooner reached the door leading back into the bedroom before being overcome again by shuddering sobs. She leaned shakily against the doorframe, looking down at tear-misted patterns on the carpet, wondering what it was like not to be an object for men to use. What it was like to be truly loved, to know the magic of strolling hand in hand along a sun-kissed beach or to have someone special wrap his arms around her and say he loved her. And just to remind her that she had no right and no place in that kind of world, she rubbed her wrist over and over and over the corner of the door frame, until she drew blood and pain, but serve her right, serve her right for thinking she had.

And for couples and lovers, but not for Cassie, there were moonlight shadows and stars sparkling like diamonds, there were moonlight shadows to carry home dreams.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dani, just give me a chance to explain..._please..."_

Will couldn't believe he was pleading with this girl after everything he'd just told Kim. What was so special about her anyway? Okay, she was hot and he'd give anything to...But, well, something else.

Gypsy and Dani were so alike and yet so different. Both were confident, sexy red-heads with stunning figures, yet there was something about Dani that Gypsy didn't have. Something that made him think maybe one day they could even be more than lovers..._Oh, no, you ain't going down that road, mate! A chick is a chick is a chick. Play the field, like you told Kim._ He bit his lip. He wasn't going to plead anymore. If Dani wanted to see him, fine. If she didn't, tough. He was no door mat. He deserved better than to be treated like trash. He couldn't believe he'd been fool enough to forgive Gypsy so many times before.

After a huge row, she had promised faithfully, close to tears, that she'd never, ever flirt with Jack Holden again and Will had been fool enough to buy it. They'd got it on at Hayley's last party, laughing together at his kid sister's choice of prissy pop tunes, comfortable together as their bodies intimately entwined as one in the heat of the night. But Gypsy just couldn't help herself.

Morals of an alley cat, Hayley said snobbishly, as though she herself had never so much as kissed a boy, the day he'd rashly told her about his girlfriend flaunting her half-naked body at the two guys she'd just met on the beach and mocking the poem he'd written. Even Will, the most laid back bloke in the history of the world as his adoptive father often remarked, had finally had enough. They were over, he told her. Forever. For all her earlier tears, his ultimatum didn't seem to bother Gypsy too much. The very next day he saw her throwing herself at Jack Holden.

"Well, I just _might _forgive you for keeping me waiting like this," Dani said, seemingly unaware of how beautiful she looked, slinging the strap of her small designer handbag over her shoulder with the bored air of a starlet who'd just reached the end of an obligatory photo shoot with a glossy magazine. "If you walk me home. And if you're very, very sorry and you don't forget I'm a lady and expect to be treated like a lady."

She looked up at him from lowered lids and gave that huge, teasing Dani smile that was to die for. And in a blinding flash, Will suddenly knew the difference between his new chick and his ex.

Gypsy would have been tearing off her clothes soon as they got round the corner and while that was every guy's dream it did kind of spoil the moment. Not Dani though. She'd make guys wait, beg, even kill for her. Because Dani Sutherland had class. Pure, pure class.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course Martha was aware of what she was doing. Well, vaguely.

It would help if people didn't keep coming in and out of focus and somebody steadied the floor. Then she wouldn't keep swaying and having to hold on to the sink while filling the bucket with cold water.

"Thirsty?" David Molyneaux asked, amused. He'd been shadowing her, trying to chat her up all night, seemingly oblivious of the fact that she'd continually blanked him.

Martha gave him a look as she turned off the tap. "You are so not funny. You are so not clever. And you are very, very tall," she replied, with the confused stream of drink-befuddled thoughts. David Molyneaux was an ace basketball player with an amateur team and the tallest student in Summer Bay High.

"Ah, but my mum loves me," David grinned. "You need some help?" He added, his grin growing broader as she looked towards the vast grounds of the Smith's grand residence and dubiously back at the bucket.

"No, thank you! I grew up on a farm and ate three brothers for breakfast every day," Martha said mysteriously, determinedly heaving the bucket out of the sink and sloshing water over herself in the process.

David wiped laughter tears from the corner of his eye. "Well, you know, if you change your mind...Who's going to be the lucky recipient then, Mac? As if I didn't know!"

"Hrr'mmph!" Martha retorted dismissively, staggering her way across the moving floor.

Only three-quarters of the water was left in the bucket by the time she got outside. But it would be enough for what she had in mind. And there they were. Waiting. Gypsy's head was resting on the shoulder of her Jack and her Jack was holding her tight, stroking her long flame-coloured hair and curling it lovingly round his fingers. And _how dare he!_

Oh, that delicious moment when the water left the bucket and their astonished faces and screams! Martha wished she could have freeze-framed it.

"Get a room!" She yelled. "Go on, get a room!"

"Go, Mac! Go, Mac! Go, Mac!" Someone began the chanting and accompanying hand-claps and others quickly followed suit.

"You cow..."

A soaking wet Gypsy was coming towards her like a madwoman, hair bedraggled, eyes wild, though a soaking wet Jack (was it Martha's imagination or did he look even more sexy when his face and hair were shining with water?) was trying to pull her back.

David Molyneaux, still sober enough to enjoy the entertainment, pacing himself with his drinking because of the big game he was due to play in, ripped open a can of lager and downed a large gulp. This was turning into the party of the century. Crazy Cassie throwing a hissy fit over what Adam Kerr said, Kim Hyde running round the landing in boxers and now a drunken, fiery, beautiful Martha McKenzie trying to drown two of her classmates and the prospect of a catfight. You'd pay megabucks to see it.

But Gypsy was to be cheated of her revenge. Martha gave a pleased but puzzled smile at the chanting and then collapsed in a drunken heap on the grass. The last thing she remembered - vaguely - was Jack running towards her.

Jack, who just a few moments ago had been telling her how special she was, Gypsy thought. And Kim. Kim had barely glanced at her when he'd strolled over to see what all the noise was about. Gypsy had no doubt had Will been there he would have been part of the concerned group gathering round Martha. Because everybody loved Martha. Gypsy didn't count.

She clasped her legs and drew her knees up to her chin, not caring that she was drenched through. It was cold, so cold, huddled all alone on the grass.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At last! Rhys put down the stress ball he'd been clenching and unclenching in his hand almost in rhythm with the clenching of his teeth. Crashing pots and pans had been far more satisfying but Shelley had strongly objected.

"_Rhys! What on earth are you doing?" _

"_Making a stew for tomorrow." Rhys was busy taking his aggression out on some blameless carrots who were being furiously hacked to death on the chopping tray._

"_Do you know what time it is?"_

"_Of course I know...Owww!" Rhys yelped in pain, as in the act of turning to his wife he missed the carrot and cut his finger with the vegetable knife. "Of course I know what time it is. The question is, does she?" he added, lowering his voice when Shelley gestured for him to keep the noise down._

"_We can't wrap the kids in cotton wool forever. Dani's a big girl now," Shelley reasoned. "Don't forget, we were that age once too."_

"_That's what worries me," Rhys admitted wryly, running cold water on his injured finger._

_Watching rich, dark red blood running down the plughole was strangely calming. Maybe it was the same kind of relief patients felt in olden times when their doctors placed leeches on them to draw blood - or maybe it was simply because he felt ready to kill. If some boy was carrying on with his precious, beautiful eldest daughter the way he'd carried on with Shelley..._

_But that was different, he told himself. He'd loved Shelley and there was no way any boy in Summer Bay could love Dani. They'd only been in this town five minutes, for Crissakes, and, while it was great she was being invited out to parties so soon, he'd set clear ground rules about what time she was to be in. If they weren't adhered to now, the twins who, thank God, weren't quite old enough to be out dating yet, would flout every rule in the book as soon as they WERE old enough. It was for their own protection. By God, he was going to get tough even if he had to have all three electronically tagged!_

"_Here."_

_Shelley pressed down on the draining board the yellow stress ball with the cute smiley face painted on it that, because they hadn't liked to leave empty-handed, they'd bought last year in some quirky little shop that sold items like swear boxes and coin sorters. "It just might work. Better than waking the whole neighbourhood anyway. Calm down. Put your headphones on, listen to some classical music. I'm going back to bed. Dani's got a good head on her shoulders and I trust her. Oh, and, Rhys, before you ask, band-aids, first aid box, cupboard under the sink."_

Half an hour later Rhys was still squeezing the stress ball, still listening to Mantovani classics and still fuming when finally, above the muted music, he heard voices.

The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen outside of movies and she was in his arms. Will was hardly able to believe his luck. They had broken reluctantly away from each other, no longer pashing, but still holding each other tight. Dani's eyes were dancing and she was smiling that incredible sexy smile that made him go weak at the knees.

"So..." Dani said.

"So..." Will grinned back, enjoying the slow moment as much as Dani.

They were studying _Romeo and Juliet _in English and Miss Fletcher had been trying to explain to them the meaning of _"parting is such sweet sorrow"_, but it didn't make sense till now. Jeez, this Shakespeare bloke had it sussed alright! Lost in each other, they jumped sky high as the door burst open and Rhys Sutherland demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Dad!" Dani was mortified. "Do you mind? I'm saying goodnight to my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend! _Boyfriend?" _Rhys was red with rage and in full flow. Above the porch, curtains were twitched as the twins watched, enthralled. "I know exactly what this guy's after. I saw where his hands were...

"_What?!" _Will spluttered at the unjustified accusation.

"You think I came down in the last shower?"

Will swallowed. Deep breaths, deep breaths. That was what a previous girlfriend had advised anyway. Lorna had been very much into alternative health, meditation and relaxing colours and stuff. Unfortunately, her dad had taken things the wrong way too when he'd caught her giving a shirtless Will a back massage with essential oils, even though it had all been very, very innocent. Well, sort of. Will did not do angry parents very well. His mind turned to jelly at the sight of them.

"Mr Sutherland," he said, launching into defence mode too soon on the deep breath, which made his tone of voice sound like he was patronising Dani's dad. "I have every respect for your daughter. Dani is totally hot with me..."

No, no, no, no, NO, NO! What made him say that? Freudian slip! He'd meant to say _"Dani is totally SAFE with me."_

Too late! Rhys grabbed his collar and pinned him against the wall, Dani looked horrified and rumbling and shuffling and window opening from above suggested that Dani's twin kid sisters, of whom everyone was vaguely aware but not taking much notice of, were trying to get a better view because the front porch was directly under the window and the porch roof was in the way.

"Will everybody please calm down? Rhys!" Shelley had long been the only person who could ever get Rhys to do just that. Glaring at Will, he reluctantly loosened his grip. "I think it's best if you go home." She added, turning to Will, who was soothing his hurt neck. "And you go to bed, young lady."

"But, Mum!" Dani protested.

"We'll all talk tomorrow when everyone's had time to cool down. Okay?"

"That mongrel..." Rhys began.

"We'll talk tomorrow. I suggest you..." She raised her eyebrows at Will questioningly, not knowing his name.

"Will," Will supplied.

"Thank you. I suggest, Will, you ring the caravan site number tomorrow around ten thirty and - IF my daughter still wants to see you - we'll arrange a family meeting," Shelley said firmly, boding no argument. She raised her voice. "Kirsty! Jade! If you two aren't in bed in five you're grounded for the week!"

Thudding footsteps from above suggested that Kirsty and Jade had either found a better vantage point or heeded the warning. Will had to hand it to Dani's Mum. Within seconds everybody obeyed instructions. He and Dani exchanged a look, he with a half apologetic smile, Dani with tear-dimmed eyes, pink cheeks and a gentle sniff that melted his heart. Nearly.

_No, don't do this, mate. You are NOT going to let ANY chick tear out your heart and trample it into the ground the way Gypsy did. _

Despite the awkwardness of the situation Will actually found time to be impressed by the almost poetic image. Maybe his English grades, currently in danger of sinking without trace, would learn to swim. Wow! Another awesome description from Will Smith, there was no stopping him now! Rhys Sutherland's thunderous glare brought him back down to earth with a crashing bump and made him realise he'd been grinning. Aw, Jeez! No point in trying to explain he'd actually been thinking about grades, this dude was seriously gunning for him.

Dani's psycho father gave a twisted smile and slammed the door in his face. But not before Will knew he'd been right not to fall for the helpless female act. That flash in Dani's eyes just before the door slammed shut told him she'd thoroughly enjoyed starring in this little drama.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He'd do as someone to lean on so that she could walk off with head held high. Hayley had no intention of sleeping with Adam Kerr but she badly needed an ego boost after Gypsy had bedded Kim and Adam had been hoping for ages. Blond and blue-eyed, he was very handsome in a pretty boy kind of way and, coming from a well-to-do family, he spoke in the right kind of way. They had a lot in common. Both of them despised losers and admired money, style and taste. In Hayley's shallow Barbie world, that should have been enough. But she always backed off the moment he got too close.

"I like you as a friend, Adam," she pouted. "Don't let's spoil our friendship."

"Tease," he said, running his finger down her arm, talking to her cleavage.

Hayley giggled and gently pushed him away. They'd had this conversation many times before. Adam gave a slow grin, lifted his gaze to her eyes and mouthed a less flattering description. Hayley pushed him away again, using force this time, and burning with anger. She'd had enough of guys thinking they could take liberties tonight.

"That's sick! That's the sort of foul-mouthed thing I'd expect from that maggot Kane Phillips, not you. You think you can call me whatever you like just because we've known each other forever."

"Hayles! Hayles, I'm sorry! I was only joking!" Adam realised too late he'd pushed his luck and desperately sought to recover lost ground. He'd never get another chance as good as this.

Hayley had had to make her exit look good and the main landing was crowded with spectators of the Kim show so she had led him instead to a couple of en suite guest rooms at the back of the huge house. Adam hadn't even known the area existed. He was pretty sure none of the other party guests did either. So they were all alone and the girl he fancied the pants off had been drinking, which meant she was being OTT flirty and giggly, and not quite as much in control as the ice queen normally was. Adam had been sure tonight was his night, but now he'd blown his chances and Hayley was pulling her usual stunt and beginning to edge her way back down the narrow stairway.And then Adam's luck suddenly changed.

A muffled sobbing made them both stop dead. Hayley gave a small scream of fear and grabbed both his arms, her pale blue eyes wide with terror.

"It's her!" She gulped.

"Who?" Adam asked, baffled, but delighted she was clinging to him.

"Will says The River Restaurant is haunted by a white lady who comes out of the river weeping." Hayley's words ran breathlessly into each other.

"Hayles! You're so cute!" Adam laughed, drawing her closer and stroking her back. Stuff ghost stories and long abandoned, cobweb-strewn restaurants. He'd stake money on the room being occupied by a couple of wandering partygoers who'd accidentally stumbled on the hidden area. And now that they'd come this far, he was determined to persuade Hayley to go even further in more ways than one. "There are no such things as ghosts. Come on, babe, I'll prove it to you."

"I can't! I can't!"

"Yes, you can. I'll protect you." Adam wrapped his arm firmly round her waist, knocked lightly on the door a couple of times and, without giving anyone time to answer, pushed it open.

Startled, Cassie jerked her head upwards. She looked a sight. She didn't need their expressions to tell her that. Hayley's disgust and Adam Kerr's smirk. She didn't need their expressions to tell her what she already knew.

Rocking herself to and fro, Crazy Cassie sat on the bed on the very edge of the mattress, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe that was way too big for her, her hair soaking wet, her clothes thrown across the floor, her arms folded across her body to hug her shoulders, her long, bare legs curled around each other, as though she were practising some peculiar yoga position.

"Oh...myyy...God..." Glad of an excuse to put Adam off and relieved it was no ghost, Hayley looked sneeringly at the discarded clothing and frowned at the blood streaks on the door frame. Her eyes finally lighted on the used condom tossed on the floor and back on Cassie herself. "You filthy, filthy slag. Waiting for your next client?"

Hayley's needle-sharp cruelty shocked even Cassie, who's zero self esteem meant she thought she deserved everything life threw at her, and she stared wordlessly back at her so-called friend.

"Who was the lucky guy then?" Adam grinned, with a ham-fisted attempt at humour.

Cassie didn't think she was important enough to tell him to mind his own business.

"K...K...Kane Phillips," she replied. "But I...I didn't want to...I d-didn't want to..." Poor Cassie broke down.

"Are you saying...?" Hayley had felt a little uncomfortable when Cassie had stared at her like that. She didn't know why. But an idea was forming in her mind. She stooped down and placed her hands on her friend's knees.

"I didn't want to," Cassie repeated, grasping Hayley's hands, and shaking her dark head, sobbing. "I didn't want to. You've got to believe me."

Hayley's heat raced, remembering.

"_Oh, I get it. You like to play games. Well, me too, babe." _

"_Let go of me, Kane. You're hurting."_

_But he didn't let go. He grinned. A slow, sarcastic grin. And his grip on her arm tightened._

"_Don't play with fire, darlin'."_

"_I...I...Let me go. Please." Hayley's voice was a whisper. Tears misted her eyes and spilled down her cheeks unchecked._

_He grinned mockingly. So close that his gaze burrowed into her skin and his words brushed like sandpaper against her face. "'Didn't Mummy and Daddy ever tell their little princess that kiddies who play with fire always get burned?"_

She had no idea what had gone on between Phillips and Crazy Cassie and she didn't particularly care. Cassie was loopy enough to have stripped naked and danced round him in the rain for all she knew. Oh, but she _did_ care about Hayley! She _did_ care that she hadn't had her revenge. Yet.

"I believe you, Cass," she said, "after what happened to me tonight. But I was luckier than you. I managed to get away. Kane Phillips tried to rape me..."


	19. Chapter 19

**chapter 19**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**Night Moves**_

When he began sobering up in the fresh night air, he found himself in the grounds of the hospital.

It was an abysmally depressing place, every red brick seeming as though it had been tainted and haunted by memories. Back windows of the ugly Victorian building overlooked a busy road, where the only break in the drab greyness of the built-up area stood on the traffic island: a graffiti-daubed giant sculpture of a multi-coloured caterpillar, a throwback, peculiar to its time, to some 1970s college-funded art project, meant to remind motorists to watch their speed, and which a ceaseless stream of cars and trucks swished past without a second glance.

Two arched pillars paradoxically located at the side of the building led to the main entrance, above which a small brass plaque informed all that Alderman George Bishop had performed the opening ceremony here on September 4th 1889. Of course back then the hospital would have been more isolated and noises more muffled: only the steady clip-clop of hooves and the metallic roll of wagon wheels on cobblestone; the shout of a tradesman or the jangle of some passing tram rippling through into the faceless wards. Yet an oasis of calm still descended at its opposite side: large gardens that caught the afternoon sun, leafy trees and neatly clipped shrubbery, carefully cultivated flowers and neat lawns, each winding path marked by one or two green wooden benches, and the centrepiece a beautiful marble fountain, again, according to a plaque, marked by the presence of the ubiquitous Alderman George Bishop on 4th September 1889, where by day marble fish gushed sun-sparkled water from open mouths.

But even here too the ugly red-brick made its appearance, high, forbidding walls surrounding the beautiful gardens, giving a clue to what was hidden away inside. By night an eerie silver glow coated the presently immobile fountain and the silent grounds echoed only to the constant thunder of traffic in the near distance. By night the breeze stirred, rustling the leaves of the trees in gentle whispers, waking them to the beauty of their solitude.

He liked the solitude and the night. Knowing she would be free for a little while from the demons of her mind, cloaked in the quiet warmth of sleep. He wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb, amazed and embarrassed that recollections of his childhood still held power enough to make him cry.

He thrust his hands deep into his jeans pockets, head down to hide the tears no one else could see, and began walking down the familiar path. An alarm deterred intruders but he'd known from when he was eight or nine years old exactly where to walk to avoid the sensor and the cops. Kane Phillips hated cops. Funny thing, it was one of his few friends, Jack Holden's ambition to be a cop. He'd never figure out why. Holden was decent bloke, never blanked him or looked down his nose like many of the students at Summer Bay High did and many more would have done if they'd dared. There was a rumour Holden planned to get it on with every girl in their year. He'd seen him getting up close and personal with Gypsy Nash tonight and admired him for it. He'd made out with Gypsy himself and it was to be highly recommended.

He turned his attention back to dodging the sensor. All the local kids had known of the blind spots. All the local kids came then to play in "Loonie Park" and a few, if they could dodge security, to shout taunts at the loonies who lived there. They still did. He and Scotty had done it often enough themselves when they were younger, even while uncomfortably aware all was not quite right with their own Mum. At the back of their minds they had always known she would end up here. In the _Rowan House Residential Centre _or, as the signpost used to read in the days before political correctness, _Summer Bay Mental Asylum for the incarceration of Lunatics and Imbeciles. _No doubt Crazy Cassie would end up here one day too. Shame. Waste of a hot chick.

He stopped to gaze up at a window on the third floor. Riversdale Ward. His mother's home.

Like all the wards, it had been fancifully named by some anonymous bureaucrat after Summer Bay beauty spots and painted with magnolia walls and pale pink doors, some of the larger wards, like his mother's, now converted into several small, comfortable rooms for long-stay patients. Nowadays they were treated more humanely: there were twice-weekly art and pottery classes; a small gym and games room and a well-stocked library; even dances held in the recreation hall shared by both staff and patients. He wondered if she was ever well enough to attend the dances. She liked music. When he was very small, she would sometimes break off from some chore and singing along to the radio pull him and Scotty into a dance. And then one day his father had arrived home unexpectedly, smashed the radio against the wall, and beaten her to a pulp while he and Scott trembled under the kitchen table. There was no more dancing after that.

He spun round, suddenly aware that the sirens that had been playing out somewhere faraway were ear-splittingly close. What the ---- was he thinking of, letting his guard down like that? The combination of the police car's flashing lights and the powerful beam of a torch almost blinded him as from behind the cuffs were clamped on to his wrists.

"So we meet again, Phillips," the pig brandishing the torch gave a slow, sneering grin. "Well, well, isn't this our lucky day? We get a call to say Rowan House's brand new super duper de-luxe camera has picked up a suspected peeping tom outside the female wing of the nut-house and here you are, drunk and disorderly, using an illegal substance, trespass with intent to cause criminal damage... I've been waiting to nail you for a long time and you just couldn't wait to fall into my ever loving arms." He snorted at his own wit.

Kane struggled ineffectually as they both held him, furious with himself for being caught off guard and at the trumped-up charges. And he was taking a stab in the dark at the illegal substance accusation; his pupils wouldn't even have dilated after smoking one lousy joint.

"You can go ----, you stupid, fat jer..."

"Best if you just get in the car, son, and we can discuss things at the station," the cop who'd snapped on the bracelets cut in. He didn't seem as bad as his colleague or to even to like him. "You get to choose how fast or how slow we get there but resisting arrest is never a good move and usually slows everybody down."

But he wasn't given any choice at all as he was bundled into the police car.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I want Martha. Get Martha. Please get Martha. Please, please, please get Martha." Cassie whimpered. She knew she sounded pathetic. She knew her friend must despise her for whining, but she couldn't help it.

Adam had wanted to call the cops but Hayley instructed him to wait outside and to say nothing to no one. She was a hundred per cent certain she didn't want police involved. She had watched enough TV shows to know the procedure. They took samples, did medical examinations. She didn't want all that. Even if he hadn't let her go, even if he'd...she shuddered...gone all the way, she still couldn't face the intimate questioning to prove or disprove the charge. With uncharacteristic sensitivity, she was sitting on the bed beside Cassie, her arm round her shoulders. But Cassie wasn't entirely sure she trusted her. It was a horrible way to be especially as Hayley was being so nice and patient with her and poor Hayley had been attacked. Poor Hayley didn't deserve that. Cassie had brought it all on herself but poor Hayley hadn't.

"He's a total, total sicko and very, very dangerous," Hayley was saying. "The fact he attacked you too proves that Kane Phillips would attack anyone, no matter how ugly, and not just someone beautiful or someone not wearing much."

Cassie shivered. The barb stung and she couldn't understand why Hayley wanted to wound her when she was already hurt. She looked at her friend, her eyes wide. "But what difference does it make how a girl looks or what she is or isn't wearing? We shouldn't have to defend our actions and make excuses for guys. We shouldn't have to."

"N-o." Hayley bit her lip, uncomfortably aware that Cassie was right but not liking to be corrected especially by a dag. "It's okay. I'll ring Big Mac."

What was it with her? No matter what, she still had to get the digs in. Sometimes she didn't understand herself. Adam had called Martha Big Mac, which she was far from being, as a joke when they'd been in MacDonald's once and Hayley had realised, by the flash in Mac's eyes, that she hated the nickname so, making like she said it in fun, she had called her Big Mac at every opportunity afterwards.

"Martha doesn't like being..." Cassie began.

"I know, I know. I didn't think." Hayley impatiently cut her short. God, it was like dealing with a child and anyway it annoyed her, the way Cassie and Martha always sprang to each other's defence. She took her mobile out of her handbag, ready to jab in Martha's number but stopped. It wasn't her phone. She wouldn't have been seen dead with this clumsy outdated brick. It was...

"Everything okay?" Adam pushed the door open, which annoyed Hayley even more. She'd told him to wait. And she didn't like the way he kept looking at Cassie. Not that she wanted it at this moment, but Hayley was used to getting all the attention.

"I want Martha." Cassie pulled the bathrobe tighter round herself and stared down at the fluffy throwaway bath slippers that had also been provided in the luxurious bathroom. Adam always made her feel uneasy.

"You'd better get her," Hayley sighed impatiently. "My phone needs recharging," she lied, as she threw it on the bed. She remembered snatching up her dropped bag and phone as she ran away from Kane Phillips and his smirk as he pocketed his own. Except they must have both picked up the wrong one. To think she'd had his phone all this time and she hadn't even realised. The thought made her want to throw up. It was like he was still around, still breathing his terrifying hot breaths on her neck.

"Well, go on!" She demanded imperiously because Adam was still standing there as if taking in the situation.

"I'll be right. I just want Martha." Cassie hiccuped back a sob, acutely aware she was being a terrible nuisance. She also wanted to get back into the shower but she didn't dare say so.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." Gypsy smiled up at Kit.

They'd never exactly been friends - Gypsy didn't do girlfriends and, after being ostracised over her alcohol addiction by nearly the whole female population of Summer Bay High led by Hayley, Kit had become completely self-sufficient - but a mutual dislike of Hayley and her prissy pretentious preening bonded them. Especially since Hayley had made it clear she considered Will way, way too good for slags like Gypsy Nash and told her so. Big mistake. Kit already owed her for constantly bagging her out over her drink problem.

Alone, each had been a formidable force. Together they were dynamite. As Kit confided in Gypsy, blonde bimbo Hayley had just better hope for her own sake that she never again went on another binge drinking session. She wouldn't trust herself not to kill her.

"So...how are you?"

"Wet," Gypsy shivered, gratefully accepting the proffered towel and drying her face.

"Right." Kit nodded as she sat down beside her, and grimaced as the rain-soaked grass seeped through her clothes. "Well, me too now. Thanks, mate."

Kit's tone boded no malice. Even though she'd known from Noah's expression earlier tonight that she looked a million dollars out of her usual jeans and trainers and in her sexy new outfit, she was genuinely unfazed by the ruined skirt. She'd been in worse situations back when she would lose whole days, even weeks, out of her life by going on benders. Once - having covered her tracks by telling her parents she was staying at a friend's - she'd woken forty-eight hours later in the derelict building that she'd hidden out in, filthy and with drink spilled all down her front, and discovered, to her horror and humiliation, not only had her hair been dipping in her own vomit but that she'd wet herself .

"No worries," Gypsy replied, vigorously rubbing her head with the towel. "Any time."

They caught each other's eye and burst out laughing.

"Noah's gone to get the drinks. I thought you could use one." Kit added. "By the way, you missed all the fun. I locked Queen Piranha in the bathroom. She had to spend a good ten minutes in there while I told her exactly what I thought. Spoilsport Noah let her out. Before I'd persuaded her to use the razor unfortunately. Can you believe the bitch tried to hit on him again tonight?"

"No way!" Gypsy exclaimed. "What a cow!"

"So..." Kit leaned back and lit a cigarette, offering the packet to Gypsy who shook her head. "Where were you when Hayley got payback?" She grinned. For both, getting back at Hayley Smith was more than a bitchy past-time. It was a full-blown career.

"Not sure. It could've been when Jack and me were having a heart-to-heart..."

Gypsy glanced briefly across at the Martha fan-club and felt a shudder of loneliness. Who needed people anyway? Who needed guys like Jack Holden who kissed you like it meant something and then ran back to their ex? Or guys like Will Smith who only had to look at you to break your heart? Didn't he understand she only did what she did to protect him? To stop him getting hurt? She wasn't worth him falling in love with her...was she?

But she was beginning to recover her usual outward composure. She tossed back her fiery red hair and licked her lips airily. "Or it could've been when I was busy bedding Kim."

Kit almost choked in the middle of lighting the cigarette. Everybody knew Kim was making a play for Hayley and that Hayley was treating him like a lovesick puppy that she could dangle on the end of a string.

"Way to go, Gyps!" She high-fived.

"Way to go yourself, Kit Hunter!" Gypsy returned the hand slap in equal admiration.

"What've I missed?" Noah asked warily, returning with two glasses.

"Girl talk." Kit took the non-alcoholic orange juice from him. She give anything for a proper drink, but she didn't dare risk it. Even one would be enough to send her sliding back down into the gutter.

"That means keep out of it, Noah Lawson."

Noah grinned at Kit, his eyes shining as they always did when he looked at her. Totally smitten, Gypsy thought, and for some reason felt another wave of loneliness wash over her.

"It sure does. Mind that!" Kit jumped up, tapped his nose and kissed him. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile and then turned back to Gypsy. "C'mon, Gyps, let's get you indoors to dry off. What's the story between you and Jacky boy then? It's not like Mac to throw buckets of water over people."

"No story." Gypsy said nonchalantly, taking another sip of her vodka and orange and deciding to leave it where it was, feeling slightly better and not so alone as they linked her arms. "No story at all."

There just might have been, the thought echoed sadly through her mind.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So what exactly are you doing with a girly phone? Kept it as a memento, did we?"

Officer Joe Briscoe stood with one foot on the chair opposite, towering over the suspect to intimidate, and turning the delicate pink mobile phone with the Barbie Girl ring tone over in his large hands. Summer Bay was a small station, so newly built that some parts still smelt of paint, and offenders no longer had to be ferried back and forth to the larger station at Yabbie Creek. Legal procedures were being blatantly ignored but nobody cared very much.

The desk sergeant carried on filling out paperwork, a couple of the guys brought in a rowdy drunk to lock up and sleep it off and everyone turned a blind eye to the aggressive questioning going on in the waiting area. With anyone else it would have been different but not with the Phillipses. As far as the law enforcement officers in Summer Bay and beyond were concerned, the sooner the Phillips family were all behind bars, or better still dead, the better.

Kane Phillips bit back a sarcastic comment about suddenly discovering he was gay. The guy was deliberately trying to wind him up and provoke him into something more so he could throw the book at him. And in the clearer light of the police station he understood why.

He recognised him now from the photo in the papers during the court case. He'd apparently been cornered a few years ago in a Yabbie Creek alley by Mr Phillips senior and a couple of associates and so badly beaten that the judge commented it was only the fortunate intervention of an ambulance crew that saved his life. Phillips had been the main antagonist, using a sickeningly unnecessary level of violence even though the man was already out cold. He had gone down a long time for that stunt. It would have been even longer except the evidence he was pimping was too flimsy to be stand up in court. The pros sported black eyes and bruises but were too frightened to talk.

Joe had a daughter, grown up now, who'd run away from home after a family row when she was thirteen. She'd only been missing for one night before being found sleeping rough but it was the very same night some other poor kid, only a couple of years older, had been brutally attacked in nearby Mango River.

Richie Phillips, or Gap-Tooth Gus as the working girls knew him due to his several missing and broken teeth, had since served his jail sentence only to find himself back in the slammer for possession of illegal drugs. Still not the real reason Joey wanted to nail him. But this b-----d was obviously of the same ilk as his father.

"It's my girlfriend's. She left it at my place last night."

It was the best he could come up with. Telling them to contact Princess Hayley probably wasn't a very good idea right now considering the way he'd threatened her and her penchant for revenge. He'd been startled to see her phone when his pockets were emptied. It must have happened when he let her go. He remembered being highly amused by her scuttling off like a frightened rabbit after all her confident flirting and not paying much attention to what he'd dropped himself in the slight tussle.

"C'mon, Phillips. Blokes like you don't have girlfriends, you just have sex. So first you're doing the peeping tom act and now we find you got some poor bitch's phone." He pushed his face into the suspect's, his breath reeking of garlic from the chicken kiev he'd downed with indigestion and diet coke at a late pub lunch. "C'mon, where is she? What'd you do to her?"

The suspect gritted his teeth and glared back. Peeping Tom act! Yeh, that'd be right! Let them go figure. He hadn't mentioned his mother was in the hospital and he often went there not to visit, she'd never know him, but just to gaze up at the ward. He never told anyone that. Somehow it made him feel vulnerable, like he would be opening a window to his soul.

Officer Luke Johnson tapped his teeth with a biro as he always did when he was nervous. He was young, new to the area, unfamiliar with the Phillips family, and ever since they'd picked up Kane Phillips he'd felt decidedly uneasy about the obvious flouting of the rules. Anyone brought in for questioning was meant to be taken straight to the interview room, given access to a solicitor.

"We could get him to prove it," he suggested. "He could give her a call."

"Fine," Briscoe snapped, aware he had to tread warily, be seen to adhere to the rules here. His younger colleague just might be stupid enough to report this to higher authorities and things could turn nasty. "Okay, Phillips, if she can vouch for you, you're off the hook. If not, we're booking you."

"What the ---- for?"

Joe Brisoce savoured the moment. "Oh, suspicion of committing an offence. We might need to run a computer check of all the missing girls in Oz. We're bound to find something we can pin on you. Unless, of course," he grinned mockingly; " you can prove the phone really is your girlfriend's."

"Sure I bloody well can!"

Feigning nonchalance, he scrolled down the long list of names of Hayley's friends. He needed someone who wasn't the usual Hayley clone with nothing much in her head other than what colour nail varnish to wear. Someone with a mind of her own. Abby, Amanda, Cassie - Crazy Cassie, no way! - Emily, Grace, Jasmine - a possibility, she usually needed money and he could pay well for the deception, if she was quick enough to go along with it, as Scotty often had notes stashed round the house - only problem was, Jaz wasn't the brightest button in the box; Jenny, Jessica, Kate, Lisa...Finally he made his selection and took a deep breath as heard the phone ring out. He had phrase this carefully to make sure she understood. But Joe Briscoe snatched it away before he could speak.

"G'day, miss! We got your boyfriend Kane Phillips down here at the station..."

It was all down to Martha McKenzie now...


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**Feelings**_

"Hello!"

An enormous amount of dialogue was packed into Martha "Mac" McKenzie's one small word as she pressed the mobile phone to her ear without bothering to look at the caller's name flashed on the screen. It was a snappy, impatient hello, the kind that said I'm incredibly busy right now with far, far better things to do than talk to you, if you value your life and that of your family then rack off immediately and stop wasting my time or this could get very, very nasty.

She was beside herself with grief, anger and a myriad emotions, some of which she hadn't even known existed until the last few moments. She could do without what would no doubt be one of her friends with some snippet of silly gossip or her brother Macca to complain the latest girl on the scene had dumped him/told him he was a loser/refused to go out with him/what on earth did he do wrong or her grandad demanding to know what time she intended to be home.

Cassie, poor, poor Cassie! How could anyone do this to her? How could anyone turn her into this shuddering wreck? Cassie didn't know HOW to hurt people. She'd do anything for anyone, give away her last cent, never, ever bagged people out even though a hundred times and more Martha had seen the bitchy sneers and heard the bitchy comments from their so-called friends.

She always told Cassie she was imagining it.

She had to tell her something, anything, to take away the pain of that deep, unreachable sadness she saw in Cassie's eyes. Martha suspected that long ago some boy had broken her heart - not a proper boyfriend because her friend had already told her that she'd never had a proper boyfriend, but she would tell her the story one day. As always with Cassie, opening up had to be a gradual process. Martha's own imaginary scenario was of a boy in Cassie's junior class whom she'd had a massive crush on and who, when she'd finally plucked up courage to tell him, had cruelly told her in front of the whole class that he wouldn't go out with her even if she were the last girl on earth. And Cass, trusting the whole world to be as caring as herself, was ultra sensitive. Rejection cut her to the quick. Martha hated this imaginary boy with a fire-blazing passion, but she hated Kane Phillips even more.

"How dare he! How dare he, Cass, how dare he!" Tears of anger and helplessness rained down her face and Cassie's tears were wet on her neck and all she could do was hold her, patting her back soothingly as though she were a very young child.

"Well, Cassie wasn't the only one Kane Phillips attacked but look at me, am I demanding all the attention?" Hayley pouted in her spoilt voice.

Martha looked round at Hayley, annoyed that even at a time like this she could still be petty and spiteful. But she had to make allowances. Okay, Hayley had managed to get away and, okay, Hayley had Adam, who was standing beside her with his arm round her waist, for support too, but she'd been through a terrifying ordeal just the same and she looked pale and drawn.

"Oh, Hayles, I'm so sorry! It must have been awful for you!" She pulled her friend into a warm, comforting hug and Hayley gave a slow, brief smile.

"We've got to call the police, get this sicko put away," Adam began again, returning to the argument that had been ongoing since Martha arrived.

"He's right, Hayles." Martha was rarely in agreement with Adam, they were chalk and cheese, but on this occasion she was one hundred per cent behind him.

Hayley shook her head, breaking away from the hug. "No! I _can't! _Not yet..."

"But what if he attacks someone else?" Martha argued. "What if he doesn't stop at you and Cass?"

"It was all my fault," Cassie whispered. She had sunk back down on the bed and was engrossed in twisting a crumpled, tear-soaked tissue. "He didn't know...I said...he thought..."

Martha swung round furiously. "Cass Parker, you are NOT taking the blame for that sick low-life's perverted behaviour!"

"He didn't know, Martha, he really didn't know I didn't want to." Cassie looked up at her with her big eyes, hoping Martha would understand.

"Don't even _think_ of going there!" Martha stood with both fists on her hips, glaring at Cassie, and feeling like a rotten bully. But if bullying was what it took to make her best friend understand she was the victim here, then she'd bully without mercy.

"Call the cops, get the b-----d banged up forever," Adam said, drawing Hayley to him though Hayley immediately pulled away.

"Stop it, Adam! I've just been almost raped and you think this is a good time to make a pass?"

"For God's sake, all I was doing was trying to put my arm round you!"

"Martha, please believe me. I told Kane he could. It wasn't his fault." Cassie's trembling voice rose to a crescendo above the din of the music and partying downstairs in the far wing of the grand house.

"_Of course it was HIS bloody fault!" _Martha roared back.

Everyone was talking at once and in the midst of all the chaos, a mobile phone rang sharply. It was easily identifiable as Martha's. She was probably the only student in Summer Bay High who didn't follow the trend of downloading the latest ring tones.

"Hello!"

She pressed the phone to her ear, only half listening. And then a stranger's voice imparted a surreal message that took her breath away:

"G'day, miss! We got your boyfriend Kane Phillips down here at the station..."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Look, guys, thanks for everything. I'm fine and all dried out now so I'll go..."

"Go where?" Kit turned abruptly from where she and Noah were kissing, whispering and giggling together on the couch.

"Oh, I dunno. Home maybe. Back to the party maybe. Find a new guy to score with maybe."

Gypsy, who was sitting on the arm of the long leather couch, swirled the ice cubes round her drink and gazed dispassionately at the partygoers. It was obvious that Noah and Kit were dying to find somewhere private and she was in the way big time but they were too polite to tell her so.

"You're not going anywhere on your own after what Mad Mac did to you! Tell her, Noah."

"You're fine with us, we're happy for you to stay," Noah lied.

He and Kit had been getting closer by the minute. Even if Gypsy hadn't already been an expert, she'd have recognised the tell-tale signs. Gazes lingering far longer than they needed to linger. Words that meant something to only the two of them. Secret smiles, secret touches.

"Hey, I'm a big girl, guys!" Gypsy jumped up and then caught her breath as someone blocked her path.

Jack Holden stood there, looking at her with huge puppy dog eyes, looking at her with his hair and shirt still drenched from the earlier soaking, but not seeming to care.

"Gypsy! Thank God I've found you! Megan said she'd seen you heading in this direction, I've been looking for you everywhere." He paused and bit his lip. "I wanted tell you I'm really, really sorry. Mac was crook and I just ran to her without thinking. I should never have left you like that and I...I'm sorry."

Gypsy shrugged. "It's okay. I'm used to it. You know how it goes. Throw out the garbo, someone. Oops, there goes Gypsy Nash! Ah, well, same difference."

"That's not funny."

"Wasn't meant to be." Gypsy gave a mixed message, smiling brightly and yet talking in a choked voice.

"In fact, you're talking rubbish."

"That's a very bad joke, Holden." She swung away, but he caught hold of her arm and looked straight into her eyes.

"I didn't mean it as a joke. And somehow I don't think you did either."

For the very first time in her life Gypsy Nash, known by everyone to always be ready with a smartass reply, was lost for words. Tiny shivers ran down her spine and strangely she wanted this moment and for him to look at her in that tender way to last forever.

She was vaguely aware of Kit tapping her shoulder.

"Catch you later then, guys!" She said, with a knowing smile, relieved that she and Noah could make their exit with clear consciences now Gypsy was no longer alone, adding in a low voice that only Gypsy heard, "Hayley will spit the dummy! First Kim and now her bezzie mate's guy! Have fun!"

Gypsy returned the smile tinged with sadness. It wasn't about Hayley now. It was about...well, she didn't know what it was about anymore. Like life had dealt her a brand new deck of cards and told her to go ahead, Gypsy, pick a card, any card, and, wow! Look what you got there, Gyps, Jack of Diamonds!

But she couldn't help wishing Jack was Will. That was natural, wasn't it, you never forgot your first love, did you? It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything at all, it was just the way everyone remembered yesterday with rose-tinted glasses. Anyhow, she'd blown it with Will and it was too late for regrets.

And the nicest guy in the world, not caring that he was still drenched and all because he'd kissed her, was looking at her with those gentle eyes and asking her to dance to the slow, romantic song playing, and she fitted so perfectly into his arms.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I wouldn't bother looking for her out here. She went back inside ages ago."

Kim jumped at the voice that had just read his mind and looked down, almost half expecting to see the one of the water sprites that reputedly haunted the area together with the weeping white lady (who must have been extremely hungry, for she always rose out of the river to disappear inside the abandoned restaurant). Or at least the ghost books sold to Summer Bay tourists claimed they haunted the area said they did and as the Summer Bay tourists loved to be scared out of their wits and to send the books on to relatives and friends to be scared out of their wits the myth lived merrily on.

Megan Ashcroft was sitting on a sheepskin rug, leaning against the tree, shielding her eyes from an imaginary sun. Megan was a loner. How she always got invites to all the cool places was a mystery and yet it wasn't. She had an amazing talent for painting and had already sold a fair few so it was considered extremely cool to hang out with Megan - although nobody ever managed it because Megan didn't need anyone except her childhood sweetheart Tony, who was temporarily away studying at a music academy in the city.

Megan was very pretty in a startling kind of way. She had a shock of long, frizzy red hair, an elfin face and different coloured eyes that seemed to stare at you intensely. When Tony wasn't around to accompany her, she would turn up at parties dressed in her own unique style, settle somewhere with or without a bottle (Megan didn't do glasses) and contentedly watch the world go by.

Today she wore a floppy green hat, an old-fashioned green blouse with high collar and puff sleeves, long, thick green beads and unflattering baggy black trousers that put Kim in mind of actresses in second world war movies. It was hard to tell whether she had bought the outfit specially, hired it from a fancy dress shop or had raided the wardrobe of some distant elderly relative. And only Megan, Kim thought, could have got away with wearing several cheap bracelets that rattled whenever she moved her arm, green, gold-flecked nail varnish and heaps of green eye shadow without being the talk of the school.

"How long have you been there?" He grinned. Despite her unusual appearance, she was always very easy to talk to even for someone as shy and awkward as himself.

"Oh, long enough to observe. And I can tell you, Hayley is off guys. She went to Whitelady Copse with Kane Phillips, he said something she didn't like, she ran indoors and after a while Hayley's lackey Adam Kerr is sent off to fetch Mac. Luckily she'd recovered by then from chucking buckets of water over ex-boyfriends and their new loves before passing out."

"You know a helluva lot!"

Megan grinned back. "I know everything there is to know about everyone. Amazing what you learn just by sitting here. Want to know more? Davey Molyneaux has the hots for Mac but she's still carrying a torch for Jack Holden and he's decided to hook up with Gypsy Nash who I somehow don't see knocking him back. Poor Crazy Cass is all mixed up about something, Kane, I think, she had a bit of a blue with Mac over it earlier. As for Kit and Noah - well, love story of the decade. Those two, they'll be living in a little white house close to the beach, married with three kids, a dog, a cat and a rainbow lorikeet in a few years' time."

"Sounds like you know the future."

"That's funny," Megan frowned. "My gran said I'd inherit The Gift. She said my two sisters never would, just me. I've to cherish it, she said. It's worth a fortune apparently."

Kim sank down beside her and she spread the rug to make room for him. "What, like she's gonna leave you an expensive lucky pendant or something?" He asked curiously.

Megan laughed. "No, you dill! She meant I was psychic."

Kim blushed. His Dad was right. He _was_ stupid.

"You're not stupid." Seeing the look on Kim's face, it was Megan's turn to blush. "Oh, God, I've done it again, haven't I? I don't read minds, honest I don't! It's just people's expressions."

She stared at him so unblinkingly, so worriedly, with her brown and green eyes that he felt obliged to turn it all into a joke.

"Okay then, Madam Zora, what's your prediction for the students of Summer Bay High this year?"

Megan suddenly looked down at her hands. "You don't want to know!"

"Hey, it's not important..."

"Look, you've got to understand, it's guesswork, all of it. I don't know if I'm right or wrong. I just go with feelings."

"Now you've got me intrigued."

But she laughed suddenly and shook back her mane of red curls. "Aw, I'm just having a lend of you! But I have got a feeling about your future, Kim Hyde. Someone is going to fall in love with you and you're going to fall truly, madly, deeply before you know it. A girl you already know. But it's not the one you want to love you."

"Not Hayley?" There was no point in pretending. The whole of Summer Bay High knew how Kim felt about Hayley.

"Sorry. Not Hayley," Megan confirmed. "I can't tell who it is. I think she's kind of already in your life, in the background somehow, and you've always liked each other without realising. But it's definitely not Hayley."

He sighed heavily, unable to conceal his disappointment.

"Hey, don't believe everything I say!" Megan said lightly. "Like I told you, it's only guesswork. Half the time I don't even believe it myself."

"Yeh, well..." He stood up and dusted his trousers. "See you around, Meg."

"See you around," she smiled, and pulled the hat down over her eyes as though it were early afternoon and siesta time.

Kim didn't need to know. Nobody did. And she was probably wrong anyway despite what Gran claimed about her having "the gift". Superstitious nonsense, all of it. Nobody needed to know something she wasn't sure about herself.

But the inner voice persisted.

_Someone from this party tonight is going to die. Very, very soon._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

_**Background Music  
**_**  
**  
Back in the days when she lived in Brookdown, Martha discovered that a swiss army knife was a very handy item for someone who worked on a farm. The one she owned was particularly useful. As well as corkscrew, toothpick, keychain, can opener and bottle opener, hook and sewing eye (all frequently used, especially during lunch breaks or when clothes got snagged as they often did) there was a wire cutter to free sheep that sometimes became entangled in the barbed wire and two screwdrivers, occasionally used for emergency repairs of machinery, tweezers to pluck out splinters from fences or wasp stings (hearing his screams after he disturbed a wasps' nest one day, she had rushed to her brother Macca's rescue), a nail file to file down nails ruined by a day's hard yakka, even a ballpoint pen and scissors - and of course two shiny blades, the sharp main blade and a slightly smaller one. All of which could be snapped back into a distinctive red case with one simple touch of the spring mechanism and then packed neatly back into its leather pouch that also contained a small torch, magnifying lens, thermometer and compass! Small wonder Martha and the swiss army knife that had once belonged to her father were inseparable.

She never forgot the day she won it.

Ever since a slight stroke Marty McKenzie had been in semi retirement, his wife and two eldest, Chris and Tommo, helping him run the farm while the two youngest, Macca and Martha, did what they could inbetween school. But another stroke, this time much more severe, took a heavy toll. Marty was sadly left with a paralysis down the right side of his body and, as in addition to nursing her husband Donna McKenzie had recently undergone a hysterectomy herself, Chris and Tommo, who by now were in their early twenties, convinced them that they were well able to work the farm and that their parents should spend more time in the farmhouse dealing exclusively with the office administration. And Marty McKenzie suddenly found that the swiss army knife that he'd relied on around the farm for many years was no longer needed. Unlike in the midst of a field, things like can openers and scissors could of course be easily located indoors. The problem was, all of the McKenzies siblings vied to be its new owner and a heated argument broke out the sunny afternoon he rashly asked were there any takers.

Then Marty hit on the perfect solution.

McKenzie's Farm grew rows of organic lettuce, carrots, celery and strawberries, which sold extremely well in the shops and helped them break even with the constant financial demands of running their own business. However, weeds grew more freely without conventional pesticides to control them and digging them out with a hoe was clumsy and destroyed crops. Delicate hand weeding was often the only answer.

"Whoever can get the most weeds out of their patch in ten minutes wins the knife!" He announced, taking out the stop watch while Donna McKenzie, who was a keen photographer, fetched her digital camera ready to record another historical family event.

"You've no chance, Mac!" Macca predicted, grinning.

"He's right," Tommo agreed, ruffling his little sister's hair. "Physical stamina is what's needed and girls aren't strong enough. Never mind, I might lend you the knife occasionally."

Chris pulled a face. "As if you've a snowball in hell's chance, bro! I know for a fact you've been smoking the odd ciggie down the pub and you're up against _me_, just voted Hampton's footie player of the year!" He patted Martha's shoulder. "Don't worry, kiddo, I'll let you have a go of the knife sometimes if you're very, very careful with the sharp blades. Deal?"

Martha smiled sweetly. Would they never learn that she wasn't made of glass and chocolate? As soon as her brothers said she couldn't do something it made her all the more determined to prove them wrong.

"Go!" Marty McKenzie announced, setting the stop watch and all four set to work, beavering away furiously as the minutes ticked by.

"And the winner is...Martha!"

Martha immediately forgot her sore fingers and aching knees, threw her battered old sun hat into the air and, oblivious to the mud that splattered her, did a celebratory circular run, to her brothers' amusement and her later embarrassment as it was all recorded forever on the digi camera, the happy little family scene made all the more poignant when barely a year later their parents died in a tragic car accident.

Had Summer Bay High adopted the policy of many high schools around the world and conducted regular searches of its students the army knife would no doubt have long ago been confiscated as a dangerous weapon, for even though it was rarely used nowadays Martha still carried the swiss army knife in its leather pouch in her schoolbag, to remember her father by, just as she still carried her mother's small address book.

But Summer Bay High had no history of violence and nobody had ever felt it necessary to conduct searches. Everywhere Martha went the knife went with her. For no more than sentimental reasons, she had put both address book and the knife into her handbag tonight, never thinking for a second she'd use it for anything other than perhaps twisting the top off a bottle of coke with its bottle opener. She'd never really used the blades. She didn't even know how sharp they were. Though once on the farm she had cut herself accidentally and rich, red blood had poured profusely from her ripped skin, dripping down on to the grass like bright red summer rain. So they must be sharp enough. For the idea that had come into her mind and lodged there immovable.

"I'll be there," Martha said briskly in answer to the caller's directions, clicking shut the phone.

"Who was that?" Hayley demanded curiously.

"Jack," Martha replied shortly, her heart pounding, hoping they wouldn't see through her lie. "He wants me to go meet him."

"And you're _going?" _Hayley stared at her incredulously. "After all that's happened and all that I told you?"

Martha bit her lip. "Yeh, well maybe I'm sick of doing everything you reckon I should. From now on, I make up my own mind."

"Martha...?" Cassie's voice sounded shaky and she was shivering, looking at her friend with hurt and puzzlement in her big, scared eyes. Stricken with guilt at having to leave her, Martha squeezed her shoulder.

"It's okay, Cass," she said gently. "Everything will be okay, I promise. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She noticed Adam whisper something to Hayley and suddenly had a strong desire to slap him across his smug little face though she didn't know why.

Hayley caught hold of her arm. "You better not start blabbing about all this!"

"Hayles!" Martha was deeply wounded by the implication. "How can you even think that? You and Cass have asked me not to tell anyone so of course I won't. What do you take me for?"

"A cow," Hayley spat vindictively, her eyes cold as ice. "Go on then, go back to your precious Jack, he's obviously far more important than your friends!" She pushed Martha through the door, slamming it furiously behind her.

The last glimpse she had was of Cassie sitting on the bed in the fluffy white bathrobe, bare legs still curled around as though in some peculiar yoga position, head bowed, hair soaking, shoulders shaking, crying silently.

_I'm doing the right thing_, she tried to tell herself, hurrying down the hidden stairway that Adam had led her up earlier so that she could take the side exit and hopefully avoid anyone seeing her. Strangely, though she knew she should be, she wasn't afraid. Red hot blazing anger had burnt out any fear. Right at that moment, Mac didn't care if she ended up in prison or worse but she _did_ care about her friends. As soon as they got far enough away from that police station, Kane Phillips, like Cass and Hayley, would know exactly what it was like to be permanently scarred.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Will didn't waste any time getting to know Dani Sutherland, did he?"

Kit was snuggled up to Noah, cosy, safe and warm. And feeling loved. Oh, God, so loved. Noah might have preferred the actual moment, but Kit preferred the slow build-up, the tender words whispered, the stroking and gentle kisses that grew more passionate, gazing into each other's eyes, knowing each cared so deeply about the other. And afterwards. Afterwards the comfort of lying side by side holding each other, her arms locked around Noah's shoulders, his arms locked around her waist. She had always enjoyed lovemaking, but it had never been as intense for her as it was for the guy. Though after tonight she was convinced Noah would be the one to change all that.

"Will didn't waste time with Dani, did he?" Kit repeated, when Noah's only response was to pull her closer and, heaven though it was to feel his strong arms around her and inhale his manly scent, Kit was still keen to discuss the party guests.

"Mmm." Noah's murmur tickled the crook of her shoulder, sending equal measures of warmth from his breath and cold from the tingling shivers at the magic of him being so close.

"You think Gyps is good with Jack? I thought they looked great together tonight."

"Mmm."

"Noah!" Kit giggled as his breath tickled her neck again. "I'm trying to have a conversation here."

"I don't want to talk about other people, Kit." Noah lifted his head from Kit's shoulder and sat up. "I want to talk about us."

"Us?" Kit's heart skipped a beat. A moment ago she had been so certain about their love. Despite all he'd told her tonight all the old doubts resurfaced. Was he going to tell her it had been wonderful, but they didn't have a future? All they had was a past, a common denominator, but now they didn't need the support and they would always remain friends. Her mind flashed back to how it all began.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is Kit, everyone. Welcome to our little group, dear. Please take a seat and, dear, do feel free to talk as much or as little as you like." Esther Simmons, who was in her early sixties and wore a navy twin suit, neat white blouse and sensible lace-up shoes, fingered the silver medal of the Madonna around her neck and smiled down at her.

Kit self-consciously perched uncomfortably on the edge of the little wooden chair and kept her gaze firmly focused on her hands in her lap. Religion gave her the creeps, but it was worse than she'd imagined. On the far side of the draughty church hall above a tiny stage was a large, intimidating statue of Christ nailed to the cross and raising his eyes Heavenwards and on a nearby table several small statues of saints were herded haphazardly together as though animatedly discussing the possibility of the Second Coming although the abandoned duster gave a clue as to the real reason for their zealous gathering. A large noticeboard with home-made multi-coloured letters of varying sizes advertised _"Yabbie Creek Catholic Primary Year 1"_ beneath which were children's sketches of Jesus (though, in truth, some of the figures could have been of anyone, from a floating Father Xmas decked in a long coat and minus the trademark hat to a bearded lady in a nightgown). Another table, sandwiched inbetween a stack of folded chairs and next to the tea urn, was crammed with hymn books, religious pamphlets, newly washed, still dripping wet cups and plates and a family size tin of biscuits, its lid decorated with a scenic picture of an old country church covered in snow and Victorian churchgoers swarming towards it.

From behind arched doors a church organ suddenly burst into its deep, introspective music and Kit, who had never been in a church in her life, not even for her father's funeral, was terrified that at any moment they were all going to jump up shouting _Hallelujah_ and set about trying to convert her. She wanted a drink so badly. Not tea and biscuits, a _proper_ drink. Her hands began to tremble like they often did since she'd been cold turkey. She clenched them together. She'd relax if she had a drink. Just one. That was all she needed. But she knew there was absolutely no chance of that. Drink was the reason they were all here.

There were eleven chairs arranged in a circle, ten occupied and one spare, which she assumed was for Esther, but it remained empty, Esther instead pulling up a chair behind the group and busying herself scribbling into a notebook. Listening to the murmur of voices, of people who already knew each other and were making small talk about the weather and their journeys, Kit nervously lifted her eyes and checked out the group of three women and six men. One of the men she had occasionally seen in her local park, sleeping on a bench or examining the contents of the garbage bin. Before she'd got so bad herself, she'd even laughed scornfully at the "smelly derro" like anybody at Summer Bay High who'd passed him by while taking the short cut through the park to school had done. Stevie, as he introduced himself, the smelly derro who'd stunk of BO and slept rough covered in a car blanket, turned out to be a former television correspondent who'd lost his house and family due to spiralling gambling debts and his alcohol addiction. He was gaunt but much cleaner since she'd last seen him and getting his life back together, he told her proudly, living in a hostel and selling _The Big Issue. _

She edged closer to the radiator, trying to make out like she was cold but in reality trying to edge her way out of the group. She didn't belong with them. The nearest in age was twenty years older, a woman in her mid thirties who was telling her how she'd turned to drink after being left alone with three small kids. Kit smiled politely, only half listening. She couldn't do this. She'd promised her family she would, but she had nothing in common with these people. She had just drawn breath to tell them sorry but she had to go when he arrived.

At first, aware he was studying psychology and planned a future career as a counsellor, she thought he'd come on some kind of training course and could have died with shame that he'd discovered her here. Of course she knew the rumours, started by Hayley, flew around the school about her being an alcoholic but she also knew no one at Summer Bay High really knew anything for certain. Until now.

Tall, blond, muscular, gorgeous, and the guy she'd had a massive crush on ever since she'd first seen him, but knew she had no chance with. After all, he was Hayley Smith's boyfriend and Hayley Smith was stunningly beautiful while Kit had been the only one in the Hunter family unlucky enough to inherit her father's homely features and not her mother's good looks. Nor did it help that her handsome older brother was a heartthrob or that her pretty younger sister had received four Valentines cards last Valentine's Day and already had boys ringing up for her. Kit had never had a boy give her a second glance let alone a Valentine card. In fact, the only card she'd ever received had been the anonymous one her Mum had sent because she felt sorry for her and which made Kit feel all the more angry and lonely.

"Hey, Kit," he said, sounding unsurprised to see her, shaking the rain off his coat. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. The bus broke down and that was one helluva walk." And then he slipped his leather jacket on the back of the empty chair and sat down. "I guess I should say my name's Noah Lawson and I'm an alcoholic. But you already know my name and we don't really go in for the admission thing here, not unless anybody wants to. What I AM proud to admit though is, I've been off the booze now for months. Haven't touched a drop since I came to Summer Bay." He met her eyes and smiled a smile that made her heart flip.

It was the beginning of a breathless, beautiful love.

He walked her home because it was still teeming with rain and the bus breakdown would mean a long delay and getting soaking wet waiting at the shelter-less bus-stop for the Summer Bay bus. He walked her home, his leather jacket covering both their heads, cheek to cheek, because Kit had left when the sun had still been blazing in a bright blue sky and had only brought with her a thin summer jacket. He walked her home because for both it felt so natural, so right.

They talked non stop, finding each other so easy to talk to.

He told her how he'd lately finished with Hayley. "There was never anything between us. I guess I was just flattered that someone like Hayley, the richest girl in the school, should be interested in me. She didn't know, nobody in Summer Bay High apart from Fisher does, that I was considered a total loser in my old school because of the drinking. They think I never drink because I don't like the taste. If only they knew! I was expelled from my last three schools for constantly getting wasted. I know exactly how hard it is to give up the booze, Kit. Heaps of times I've got mad at Hayley for bagging you out. It's a huge weight off my mind to be able to tell someone my secret at last."

"Me too," Kit said, finding it somehow endearing that he had referred to Hayley as the richest and not the most beautiful. She blew a sigh of relief that gently fluttered her fringe and flushed when Noah grinned, "You know, it's cute when you do that. I always watch you in Math and know when you've solved some tricky problem..."

"Watch me...?" Kit looked puzzled and it was Noah's turn to blush.

"Sheesh, I didn't mean to sound like some weirdo stalker! Kit, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you ever since I first saw you but you seemed way out of my league."

"Funny," Kit said, smiling, feeling as though she could talk to him about anything. "I always thought the same about you."

During their break for tea and biscuits, with the rain pattering away outside, he had told her quietly about how he'd become an alcoholic. "My Mum was obsessed with religion. Not as in just praying and stuff, it was heaps more than that. Things got really strange after Dad left but my brother and me, we were kids, we didn't understand she was mentally ill. We thought it was fun to move to an abandoned farm-house in the middle of nowhere, no phone, no gas or electric or running water." He smiled nostalgically. "And in some ways it _was_ idyllic. We fetched water from the well, ate the veggies we grew in the garden, fish we caught from the stream, fruit that fell from the trees. But if other people came by Mum had me and Jude hide, she said they would taint us because the world was evil and we'd become evil too."

Noah sighed and looked somewhere faraway, making her long to throw her arms round him and tell him everything would be alright. After a while he pulled himself together and smoothed back his hair (a mannerism, Kit would come to notice and love, he often had when he was anxious). "We didn't know anything about school, a world outside our lives, we thought it was normal to be on our knees for hours each day enduring long prayer sessions. Jude tried to be serious but me, being youngest, I always played up. Then one day Mum really did her block when I began laughing. She said I was wicked and that she would have to pray for my soul. That night...that night..." his voice broke. "I woke to find dozens of candles round my bed and Mum, her eyes wild, ranting and raving something about me being possessed by demons and she had to get them out of me. I was six years old. I was terrified. " He paused again, overcome with emotion.

"What happened?" Kit asked gently. She'd already told him her own story, how she'd turned to alcohol after the death of her father because, due to her low self-esteem, she wrongly felt that her mother favoured her brothers and sister and didn't love her. It was good to be with someone who didn't judge her, who understood how easily drink could take hold.

Noah gave a small smile. "Jude happened. He ran to get help, across two fields, one of them with a couple of bulls roaming just at the other side of the ditch. He was only nine, it was a long, long way to the nearest town, but he didn't stop, not till he reached the road and could flag down a car. The fire engine got to us just in time. By then one of the candles had been knocked over and set light to the bedding, to Mum's hair and clothes. I don't remember much after that, just my screaming and a terrible burning pain down my arm. I blacked out and woke up in hospital. Mum was badly burned and never recovered. It was how they found us, how they found we lived there. We were taken into care. I had nightmares about that night for years afterwards. It was how I began drinking."

"My problems were insignificant compared to yours," Kit murmured guiltily. "I just felt sorry for myself."

"Hey, don't put yourself down!" Noah protested. "I want you to promise you'll never put yourself down again, Kit Hunter."

"I promise," Kit said, her lips twitching into a smile, and thinking with Noah it would be easy to never put herself down again.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But suddenly their beautiful, breathless love was about to tumble into nothingness and she'd be lonely, unloved Kit again. They said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But it wasn't. She'd never get over the pain of this broken heart.

"Us as in you and me," Noah said, smoothing back his hair.

"Sounds serious." Kit tried hard to sound jokey, a lump in her throat.

He lifted his head and met her eyes. "How do you feel about getting engaged?"

"What?" Kit could only stare at him in amazement.

"I'm not that bad! Am I?"

She was touched by the genuine anxiety in his voice.

"I love you so much, Kit," Noah added. "I'd be stoked if you said yes."

"Yes!" She said, tears of happiness dimming her eyes as she threw her arms round him. "Yes, yes, _yes!"  
_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lights of the police station were blazing brightly. Martha had already transferred the knife from her handbag and into her trousers pocket. She took a deep breath before running determinedly up the steps.

"My name's Martha McKenzie," she announced to the desk sergeant. "I'm here to see Kane Phillips."

This was it. No going back now.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

****

_**Thunder**_

"I got a call about Kane. I'm his...uh...his girlfriend." It was only now that Martha realised how fast her heart was racing and how nervous she was about the whole thing.

"You don't seem too sure about that, Missy. Maybe you're way too young to make up your mind about anything." Officer Jeff Harwood, manning the station's reception desk, stopped muttering curses to himself as he tried to shake dry the official form he'd slopped drops of tea on, and grinned as he looked her up and down. And unwittingly came to Mac's rescue.

Years of arguing with her over-protective brothers made her bristle immediately at the condescending put-down and rise admirably to the challenge of acting the part. "Yeh, well, I'm not too sure I still _want_ to be his girlfriend after tonight." She had already noticed Kane Phillips sitting in the waiting area with two police officers standing beside him and now she swung around, hands on hips and glared. "You _promised_ me you'd stay out of trouble!"

Kane Phillips raised his eyebrows and smirked in amusement but only Martha noticed. Everyone else in the station was too preoccupied with watching the beautiful Martha McKenzie apparently in a blazing fury.

"Whoa," Luke Johnson smiled, believing every word of the girlfriend story and glad they could let the suspect go free, blissfully unaware that his superior Joe Briscoe was about to haul him over the coals for this. "Don't give him too hard a time. It was nothing too serious. We brought him in because he'd had a few drinks too many."

"And just _happened_ to be wandering outside the female block of the Rowan House Centre," Joe Briscoe put in drily. "Your phone, I believe, Miss McKenzie!"

"Thanks."

Martha accepted Hayley's phone without batting an eyelid, beginning to stun herself with her own acting abilities. She was aware that Kane Phillips was watching her curiously though he'd quickly looked away when Rowan House Centre was mentioned. Guilt, thought Martha, wondering what the hell she was doing, about to leave herself alone with this sicko who, after attacking her two best friends, had gone prowling the grounds of the psychiatric hospital. But then an image of Cassie flashed into her mind. Poor lonely, lost Cass, who never hurt anyone, turned into a nervous wreck by this...this _monster_ - and even defending him!

"Okay, Phillips, pick up your things. You're free to go. _This_ time." Officer Briscoe gritted his teeth, only narrowly stopping himself from adding "you b-----d", smoothing back what little was left of his greying hair, and feeling ready to kill Luke Johnson.

"Sweet. Nice chatting with you, boys." Kane Phillips whistled with arrogant nonchalance as he retrieved his belongings. Jeez, Mac was bloody good! He had no idea she was apparently destined for a career in the movies.

_So far, so good. Now all she had to do was..._Martha jumped sky high as a hand was suddenly clamped on her shoulder.

"Thought I knew the face," Joe Briscoe said thoughtfully. "I've seen you helping out in the Diner. You're Alf Stewart's granddaughter, aren't you? From Brookdown?"

"And what if I am?" Martha blustered.

Joe remained impassive. His own daughter, now married with kids of her own, had been just as feisty at Martha's age.

"You know, I suggest you have a serious talk with your Grandad about the kind of bloke you're dating these days."

"It's my business," Martha defended herself. Beside her Kane Phillips grinned triumphantly.

"That may be so, but you're playing a very dangerous game," Joe answered levelly.

Martha defiantly tossed her head without reply.

"Come on, babe, let's get outta here. I don't like the smell, it don't agree with my delicate constitution," her companion remarked.

He wondered whether he should put his arm round her waist to make it all the more convincing but she wasn't even looking at him. And anyway they were supposed to be in the middle of a blue, weren't they? So he simply grinned again, mouthed "love ya" to Joe Briscoe and blew him a kiss.

Officer Joe Briscoe could only watch them walk into the rain-filled night, seething with rage that Phillips was able to walk free, yet powerless to stop him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bypassing various partygoers spilled out from the party house, Megan Ashcroft finally stopped by Whitelady Copse and emptied the rain from the brim of her hat. She was drenched. Not that she minded. Rain was both lifeblood and music to her soul and she was sorry it had stopped again although the moon shone anew and lit up the grounds with a hazy silver light.

The ornamental pond that had once attracted visitors to the now defunct restaurant with its laser beam dancing water show was dried out except for the rainwater still dripping down from rusty pipes. The peaceful rhythmic dripping suddenly called an old tune to her mind. Something about moon and stars and guardians of sleepers. Most of the words had long since been lost in translation over eons of time, her grandmother had said, and few that made any sense remained in living memory. Still feeling slightly drunk from the vodka, Megan replaced her hat, spread out her long red hair and half danced around the edge of the dried out pond, humming the lullaby that her grandmother would lull her to sleep with when she was tiny.

A magic lullaby, Gran had said, that went as far back in time at least to when Molly Scattergood, an ancestor of the Ashcrofts, sang it to her own children as she mixed herbal cures and told fortunes, long before Edwin Henry Scattergood was sentenced to transportation after _"the defendant pleaded guilty to stealing the sum of five guineas from one Arthur Pryor shopkeeper of 110 Bridgewater Street, Cheapside, London. PC Thomas Entwistle said the defendant became much agitated upon being apprehended and claimed there was no food to be had in the house nor fire in the grate and his wife and children had ate nothing but a weak broth for two days... _" long before his wife Margaret and two children, Lydia and Henry, were allowed to join him in Australia.

Funny how the song had always stayed in her mind. Her sisters Lauren and Emma, even her own mother, said they recalled the melody but none of the words. But Megan and her Gran had always been exceptionally close.

"Sweet child, thy tears dry..." Melanie's voice rose clear as the cool waters of the moonlit river below, as she wondered idly whether or not he water sprites that reputedly haunted the area really existed. "Lulla-lulla-lullaby...Lulla-lulla-lullaby..."

And that was when she saw it. At first she thought it was simply moonlight dancing playfully through the trees. But the bright glowing shape took the form of a woman in a long flowing white dress and glided swiftly into the distance before disappearing before her very eyes.

She couldn't ignore her intuition any longer, try as she might to push it all away and imagine she was just an ordinary student of Summer Bay High. She could never be ordinary. Gran always said it was a gift, but being psychic was more a curse than a blessing. To know enough to push open the curtains of the future and yet not enough to see clearly through its misty windows. To see things not of this earth that others never saw.

Wishing Tony could be there to comfort her, lonely without his love, Megan leaned her forehead against the wet bark of a tree and wept softly. What must be must be. Legend had it that the ghost of Lady Eleanor - The White Lady after whom Whitelady Copse took its name - was the harbinger of death.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had walked along in silence through the trickling rain, neither certain of where they were going, neither looking at the other. At last he spoke. Uneasily, hastily. He'd always loved that fiercely independent spark that, besides her stunning good looks and figure, marked Martha McKenzie out from other chicks. For a little while, when she'd begun dying her hair every other week, plastering on the make-up with a trowel and having no topics of conversation other than fashion, celebrities and boys, it seemed she was about to be merged into Hayley and her clones but suddenly tonight the real Martha was back with a vengeance. What was more, the field was wide open. Martha and Jack had been the ideal couple and while normally he didn't give a stuff about muscling in on other blokes' girlfriends, Holden had been about the only student at Summer Bay High to give him the time of day so, uncharacteristically, he'd backed off from making a move on his chick. But he'd heard it on the grapevine they'd split officially and now she was no longer off limits he was keen to impress.

"Bloody rain can't make up its mind tonight." He made a tentative stab at conversation after racking his brains for a suitable opener.

Martha McKenzie didn't reply. Cars swished through the night, splashing through puddles, casting yellow streaks of light from headlamps. People passed by. Someone hailed a cab. An Irish ballad and laughter blared out from an Irish theme pub. But she was hardly aware of anyone or anything. Her mind was swallowed up in an images of Cassie and Hayley and just one thought.

_There's a knife in my pocket and I'm going to...I'm going to..._

They reached to where roadworks had blocked off a lane with traffic cones and crossed to the opposite side for no other reason than they were by a pedestrian crossing and the traffic stopped, assuming they had come this far and so they would.

Across the road, a sharp incline marked the point where the ocean swelled into the river. A long stroll along by the sea wall when the tide was in, as it was now, or a long stroll along the soft, powdery sand when the tide was out, eventually led down to the harbour. It was normally a tranquil, picturesque place with starlight shimmering on an inky river and the gentle sigh of the rolling waves to soothe troubled minds and a hugely popular area with walkers and cruise ships, but tonight the temperamental weather had dictated otherwise and it was almost deserted, most folk preferring the warmth and shelter of home or the nearby bars and restaurants, especially as the latest forecast was that a heavy storm was expected to hit and all shipping had been cancelled.

Already a cooling breeze was breathing through the night and dark clouds were rolling further and further inland, pushing away their quieter cousins that could only manage sudden brief downpours before slinking timidly away. He stole a glance at his companion but she was walking steadily onwards, seemingly engrossed in what lay ahead, though he had a sneaking suspicion she was still watching him.

_Peripheral vision, her brother Chris, who was studying to be a doctor, had called it, looking up from the thick medical book that he'd opened after swinging down from the tractor to sit beside her and take his lunch break too, and which Mac, while pretending to read her own magazine, had just begun reading aloud from in gibberish to put him off._

"_My eyesight's perfect!" She protested, wiping crumbs off her jeans . "That's WHY I can see the book, drongo!"_

"_No, you dork!" Chris grinned. "Peripheral vision means the ability to see things outside of the direct line of vision. Everyone has it - not half as well as you do though."_

"_I knew that!" Martha lied, giggling._

"_No, you didn't!" Chris snatched her music magazine, swiftly rolled it up and hit her lightly on the head, receiving a punch on the shoulder for his efforts. "Wow, Mac! Check out that rainbow over Lacey's Farm!"_

Why couldn't life always be the summers of yesterday? When a glorious sun browned her and brought out natural highlights in her hair, when the strawberries yielded a bumper crop, when there was always the familiar homely smell from the hen coop and Ethel the fattest hen would cluck in triumph as she laid yet another egg? Or when she and her brothers had fiercely argued or gently teased each other in the love/hate way of family, when Mum was nagging her to tidy her bedroom and Dad was singing out of tune again? Or when she first came to Summer Bay and she and Jack first fell head over heels in love and the world was suddenly perfect? Why couldn't it always be the golden summer of yesterday?

_Instead of now, when she had a knife in her pocket and she was going to..._

"Smoke?" He pulled a packet from the inside of his jacket and held it out to her.

Another silence.

_I'm doing this for you, Cass. You and Hales. Because if I don't sick lowlife like Kane Phillips will think they can always get away with it. _

"Yeh. You're right. Filthy habit." He replaced the packet. Where the hell where they walking to then? Whatever, she had quickened her pace. Jeez, it was like Crazy Cassie all over again!

"Well, anyway. How much?"

"What?"

_Re-sult! Response! _He grinned to himself. Money always talked!

"How much?" He repeated, pulling a wallet from his pocket and flicking through some low-value banknotes. "Sorry, I don't have too much of the readies on me right now, but if you're okay with it I can pay you tomo..."

He gasped in shock and reeled backwards as Martha suddenly struck him hard across the face.

"What the...?" Kane somehow managed to steady himself against a lamppost. "What the ---- was that for?" He asked in astonishment, stroking his stinging cheek. It wasn't the first time a chick had lashed out at him over some remark or other but it was the first time one had actually packed a punch.

"How dare you! How dare you imply that I can be...I can be _bought!"_

"What?" He tried to make sense of the statement. Okay, he'd had a few drinks but being in the cop shop had definitely sobered him up. Then realisation slowly filtered through. "Hang on! You thought...?" He began to laugh, then seeing the anger in Martha McKenzie's eyes thought better of it. He watched her warily while keeping a safe distance, holding on to the lamppost as though it were a tried and trusted friend.

"Sorry." He couldn't help his lips twitching at the corners. "I only meant how much did I owe you for bailing me out?"

"Oh." Martha swallowed, suddenly feeling like a fool. The colder air was beginning to wake her out of the dream-like quality of the night. What did she think she was doing? What the hell did she think she was doing? You didn't just pick up knives and make plans to kill someone, no matter what they'd done, no matter how drunk you were.

_I'm sorry, Cass. You're like my kid sister and all, and I'm sorry, I promised you and Hales, but I can't go through with it..._

"Nothing," she added, finding her voice at last.

"_Nothing?" _

Under the surreal light of the street-lamp and through the drizzling rain, he blinked at her in bewilderment. She looked like she was crying but that didn't make any sense. Had she had yet another row with Holden or something? He opened his mouth to ask a question, but she suddenly turned her head and stalked off as though practising the heel-to-toe speedwalking that Adele Stevens, Summer Bay High's sexy new PE teacher was keen to promote. Naively, Miss Stevens still hadn't figured out why certain male students, including himself, were just as keen to put their names down to join her after-school fitness club.

He hurried after her. "Hey! Wait up! What d'ya mean, nothing? You mean I owe Jack or something? Was this his idea? Where is he? Mac!"

_Omigod! I'm all alone and he's..._

She walked on faster. They said don't run in these situations. They said keep your wits about you, walk quickly and keep looking out for someone. They didn't say what to do if you'd walked further and further to where the sea wall led down to the hidden area favoured by lovers and further and further away from the road. Her hand clasped tightly round the knife in her pocket, her only chance, and she began to run.

"Mac! Wait up!"

Jeez, were ALL chicks seriously loopy? Or had she just spent too long with Crazy Cassie?

She could hear his panting breath and his pounding footsteps gaining on her as her own feet stomped on the sand-dusted ground, her own panting breaths echoing his, and nothing but the sky and the sea and the storm.

She screamed, her screams drowned out by the roar of thunder and waves, as the inevitable happened and he caught up with her, gave a small sob of terror as she felt his arm snaking around her waist, tried desperately to push him away, tried desperately to pull out the knife, but he was the stronger...

...and in the tussle through the eternity of darkness and rain, her right heel slipping in something...

._..seaweed? sand? does it matter, what does it matter? I'm falling, I'm falling, please somebody help me, I'm falling..._

and she tumbled backwards, cold, icy cold water, freezing every part of her body, waves thundering in her ears... She opened her eyes for a second and in the flash of lightning briefly saw him standing by the sea wall before the blackness and the ocean claimed her..._cold, so cold, so very, very cold..._


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**Changing Times**_

"Are we crazy? We're meant to be in the middle of a party, we're sober as judges and we've come to look at _school!"_

"We're crazy," Noah confirmed.

"Well, I must admit, I kind of like being crazy if I can be crazy here with you." Kit leaned back against Noah's chest and he enveloped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder as, oblivious of the rain, they gazed down from the hill at the moonlit silhouette of Summer Bay High with its picturesque background of moody night sky stretching down to the beach where eerie silver-tipped waves crashed and rolled on to the greying shore.

"We've come a long, long way since we got to know each other at the AA meetings in the church hall, haven't we?" She murmured dreamily, still hardly able to believe that her life could have turned around so much.

Back when she couldn't get through a day without alcohol she never would have imagined she would fall in love with the most wonderful guy on earth. The most wonderful guy, who tonight had asked her to be his fiancee. Tiring of the shallow noise and bustle of Hayley's party, a million miles away from their enchanted world of two, they had slipped out to stroll hand in hand along the moonlit beach where they'd jumped over rockpools and kicked off their shoes to make footprints in the sand and let the icy water tickle their toes, comfortable in each other's silence, comfortable in each other's words, till the swiftly incoming tide had led them to take the winding path to the grassy slope that looked down at their school.

"Remember Esther Simmons?" Noah reminisced. "Remember when Stewy tried to pash her?"

"Don't! The Night of the Cupcakes!" Kit spluttered with laughter at the memory and she glanced up, expecting to find Noah smiling too. But he was deadly serious and she guiltily drew a breath to gulp back her laughter.

"Sorry, Noah," she said gently, reaching up and stroking his face. "I know your religion still means heaps to you. I guess it wasn't funny."

"The trouble is, Kit," Noah began sternly, and then found he was suddenly unable to hold his mock grave expression any longer. "It _was." _

And this time they fell against each other, laughing helplessly, thinking back.

"_Cupcakes? Cupcakes? What planet does that woman live on?"_

_Noah sighed. "I think she's misguidedly trying to give us all a focus. Healthy competition, a team building exercise. Something like that."_

"_Yeh, but, Noah...A cupcake competition! And all this bloody God stuff freaks me out too." As though afraid that somebody might hear Kit looked up and around at the ceiling heaters that just about kept the draughty church from freezing its mainly elderly congregation to their deaths and sending them to their Maker much earlier than some among them had anticipated when they'd taken out their late-in-life insurance policy of churchgoing piety . "I know you grew up with it but I didn't and it makes me feel...well, weird."_

_Noah replaced the lid on the polish spray and sneezed slightly as he shook the duster. Kit was right. It had been nothing to him when he answered the call for a volunteer to polish the pews while Mrs Walsh, the usual church cleaner, was abroad on holiday and Verity O'Reilly, who was studying theology and who often helped out, had been called away to nurse a sick relative. Kit had decided to keep him company but given her nervousness around "God stuff" it was no easy task for her whereas his early indoctrination into religion meant he took their surroundings in his stride. He wasn't in the least fazed, for instance, by the chanting of prayers they would often hear through the arched wooden doors if a Mass was being celebrated at the same time as their AA meetings were being held in the church hall, but he noticed Kit often looked furtively round whenever she heard the "mumbo-jumbo" as she called it. _

"_It's because of the lobsters," she explained._

"_The what?" Noah stared at her in bafflement._

"_You know. In the Bible. I overhead Verity O'Reilly talking to the rector or bishop or whatever he's called, that bloke who wears the long frock..."_

"_Cassock."_

"_Mr Cassock, he..."_

"_No, Kit," Noah grinned. "That's just what he wears. He's a priest. He gets called Father."_

"_Okay, Father Cassock then."_

_Noah blinked in amusement but decided not to pursue it further. It was already complicated enough as it was._

"_Anyway," Kit continued, "I overheard them talking about the Bible for Verity's religious studies and they mentioned a plague of lobsters that fell down from the sky. I mean, I don't know that I really believe it but what if it IS true? What if a plague of lobsters came down AGAIN?"_

_Noah's grin grew broader. He took her hands and gazed into her eyes. "Kit. Every single day you remind me of exactly why I love you." _

"_Why? What'd I do?" Kit was smiling back, though genuinely puzzled._

"_Well, even if it was true - and don't forget the Bible was written by several different people over thousands of years - it was a plague of locusts and it was manna that fell from heaven, NOT lobster. You make it sound like Gordon Ramsey flew by in a chopper and dropped down dinner and dressings!" _

"_Sssh! Are you allowed to say things like that about God stuff?" Kit's eyes twinkled and she smiled a smile that lit up her face and made Noah marvel how she could ever have thought herself dowdy and plain._

"_You're beautiful," he echoed his thoughts _

"_Noah." A lump came to Kit's throat and she could barely whisper his name. "Should we be doing this in here? In case they send down a plague of lobsters?" She mumbled as their faces drew inevitably closer, with typical Kit humour making fun of herself,._

"_Probably not." Noah made no attempt to stop it however. _

_But their lips had barely brushed when they were interrupted by a crashing and screaming and to their astonishment plump Esther Simmons, who usually never walked any faster than a slow waddle, half ran, half fell through the door. _

"_Help me, help me!" She yelled in passing on mid-run, espying the young couple._

"_One kiss! One kiss, that's all I ask!" _

_Another figure had raced in after her. Kit and Noah somehow weren't too surprised to see Stuart "Stewy" Caldwell. Stewy was Summer Bay High's practical joker, an extremely clever, acne-prone, gawky kid a few years younger than themselves, who'd managed to avoid being labelled geek and even elevated his status to popular among his fellow students by his frequent clowning around and witty jokes. Noah, who'd lately been elected student counsellor, had been shocked when Stewy confided in him that he'd been a secret drinker for years. Even with his battle to overcome his own addiction and alert to the signs of alcoholism in others he'd never once suspected._

"_It started off with the whiskey in my Dad's drink cabinet," Stewy had told him, cracking his knuckles, which made Noah cringe though he understood it was a nervous habit and said nothing. "But now I can't seem to stop. Only I heard you...uh... know somewhere that might help."_

_Stewy may have been the first student to approach Noah about alcohol problems but he was by no means the last. Several students had asked Noah how they could get out of the culture of binge drinking without losing face with friends and he'd thought by encouraging them to join the church hall group and letting them hear first hand how alcohol destroyed lives it would be the best wake-up call of all. The status quo at the AA meetings had been shaken like a sheet in the wind with the influx of younger members and, even though some had already dropped out disillusioned by Esther's old-fashioned attitudes and the religious element, things still hadn't settled down._

_The cupcakes idea had been the latest bone of contention. Esther had suggested a bring-and-buy sale in aid of the church fund which doled out to various charities, with a prize for the baker of the best cupcakes. The older people thought it a great idea. The teenagers thought it silly and a better way to raise money would be something that grabbed the public's attention such as a sponsored parachute jump but Esther flatly refused to even discuss it. Nor did it help matters that Paul Gibbons, recently suspended from Summer Bay High for fighting, had recently had a blazing argument with one of the older members, been told he was banned from the group, claimed he resigned anyway and had sworn aggressively at everyone as walked out. _

_Esther hitched up her ample bosom and ran the length of the pew. "Stop him! Stop him!" She appealed again to Noah and Kit, on her way to the altar steps . _

_Stewy followed determinedly on behind. "But, Esther, I'm in lurrrve!" He stopped, and for the entertainment of Kit and Noah, twirled around, both hands clasped to his heart like an old time silent movie actor, and then blithely continued the chase, which saw them reach the altar almost together. Esther shrieked and grabbed a silver crucifix, which she held in front of her as though warding off a vampire._

"_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil..." She panted breathlessly. _

_It was all too much for Kit who clutched her stomach with tears of laughter raining down her face while Noah, hardly able to conceal his own amusement, had presence of mind enough to see Esther's genuine distress and to catch hold of Stewy._

"_Put a sock in it, mate," he hissed. "Can't you see she's terrified?"_

"_Sorry, Esther." Stewy had the grace to hang his head in shame. "It just seemed funny at the time. Didn't mean to scare you or anything. I wasn't really going to pash you." He stretched his arm out to Esther, who sniffed and fanned her round red face with her hand, refusing to return the proffered olive branch. _

"_Young man," she said stiffly to Noah. "Your sort are not the sort we want in a good Christian environment. From this moment our group will NEVER AGAIN accept anyone under the age of 21."_

"At least Stewy's fooling around led to us setting up Summer Bay High's own AA club," said Noah, referring to the informal meetings that were often held now in the office that Donald "Flathead" Fisher, the principal, had agreed to allocate him as school counsellor, and where students were free to drop in any time and discuss in confidence their more relevant problems, which, as Noah soon found, could include anything: drink, drugs, bullying, being too fat or being too thin, schoolwork, relationships, parent problems, even on one occasion how to remove a felt tip caricature of one of the teachers from the toilet cubicle before it was discovered.

A sudden crash of thunder roared overhead, breaking into their nostalgia, and making Kit jump and clutch Noah's arm. An angry fork of lightning struck in the distance as almost immediately the rain began lashing down faster than ever.

"Omigod, it's a Baystormer!" She exclaimed, using the local expression for Summer Bay's infamous sudden storms. "We've nowhere to shelter."

"Oh, yes, we have, Kit."

Noah triumphantly jangled a Homer Simpson key-chain that held five or six keys, two of which by virtue of their being larger and marked by bright yellow tags were instantly recognisable. As school counsellor, and already earmarked for a paid post to help finance his way through uni provided Donald Fisher obtained the necessary backing from the authorities, he'd been entrusted with them in case of emergencies. Grinning, he grabbed Kit's hand and they ran to take refuge in Summer Bay High.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You okay, Hayles?"

Cassie hesitantly laid her hand on her friend's shoulder. She was still feeling pretty shaken but Hayley seemed to be in a worse state. And, as always, big-hearted Cassie put others before herself. She had dressed now. Somehow it seemed the right thing to do if she were to take charge. And instinctively, though it was a whole new ball game to her, she had known she should take charge. But she couldn't do that if she was still a nervous wreck, rushing into the shower every five minutes, could she? Hayley needed her to be strong.

Hayley didn't answer. She couldn't believe Adam had made a lewd suggestion like that. Adam had always worshipped the ground she walked on. Or so she'd thought. Cheap tart, he'd called her before he'd stormed off. And other names. Worse names. All because she wouldn't. He'd said things about Cassie too but that didn't matter. Cassie was probably used to it.

She pressed her forehead against the now safely bolted door, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. She was furious. It was her party and Crazy Cassie, the biggest dork in the whole school, was the only person she had with her. Her many friends were at the other side of the door, partying on unawares, and even if she didn't feel sick at the thought of picking up Kane Phillips' mobile and even if she could remember any of their mobile numbers, they probably wouldn't hear it above the noise. She had no way of letting them know what had happened.

Cassie consolingly rubbed her back. Hayley swung angrily round. She was damned if she was going to have a dag pitying her!

"Get off me, lesso!" She spat.

Cassie shot back as though she'd been stung. "Hayles! You can't mean...you don't think..."

"Maybe Adam had a point," Hayley sneered. "You and Martha are always hanging out together, always hugging and stuff. Maybe that's the _real_ reason Jack dumped her."

"How can you say that? How can you think that?" Cassie stared at her so-called friend as if she'd never seen her before.

"Easy. Because it's true." Hayley curled her lip in distaste.

"I'm not, you know," Cassie said quietly when at last she could find breath again. "I'm not gay. Neither is Mac. But if I were...even if either of us were...would that be so bad? Simon Howell's gay, he's never pretended otherwise, but people like him." She gulped back a small sob and her voice wavered. "Why do you have to judge everyone? Can't you see it doesn't matter?"

Hayley's eyes flashed scornfully. How dare Crazy Cassie question her like that!

"Ah, but it _does_ matter," she sneered. "Haven't you noticed he didn't get any invite to the party of the year? Dags don't, see. You only got your invite because of Mac. I mean, look at you with your daggy party outfit. You think nobody knows you got it from Perry's bargain basement? People'll have been laughing at you behind your back all night!" Hayley, realising by the devastated look on Cassie's face that she and her crew had guessed correctly when they'd discussed Cassie's clothes earlier, gave a smug smile. "Get this into your thick head. I may be stuck with you but I don't like you. You're a jerk. Always have been, always will be. And I don't need jerks in my life, _Crazy_ Cassie. Unlike you, I have _real_ friends. Who the hell wants to hang out with _you? _Even your precious Martha's deserted you now. Can't say I blame her."

Satisfied when she saw the tears spring to Cassie's eyes, Hayley flicked back her silky blonde hair, strolled over to the small portable TV housed on the wall bracket, clicked it into life and made herself comfortable on the bed as though she didn't have a care in the world.

But somehow she didn't want to move from this room. Not yet. Maybe later. After all, she needed her friends but they were all out there drinking and dancing and pashing. Having fun thanks to Hayley. She definitely didn't need Crazy Cassie.

Had she known at that moment one of her only two true friends was fighting for her life in an icy sea and the other stood with her now, had she known how Adam's revenge would set in motion a chain of events that would change everything that night, then perhaps she wouldn't have been so sure.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: _For any non-UK readers who might not know the name Gordon Ramsey is a UK TV celebrity chef._


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

_**Night Talk **__  
_  
"Lord save us!" The darkness of the Diner was lit by a ray of torchlight that freeze framed Irene Roberts in the act of grasping the collar of her coat with her free hand while the other firmly gripped the base of the silver candlestick holder raised high above her head.

"Good God, woman!" Barry Hyde spoke at exactly the same time, both their voices tapering on a high note as though they were singing in barbershop harmony.

The torch beamed its harsh light into Irene's face, causing her to blink. "Do you _mind?" _She demanded.

"Sorry." Barry Hyde dimmed the torch and shuffled. He never felt comfortable around women. His wife had been his only ever girlfriend before they'd married. His childhood sweetheart. Long, long ago. Oh, so long ago.

_"Who did THAT?" _

"Did what?"

Jimmy Farrell's expression was one of over-exaggerated innocence as he chewed on three pieces of gum for all he was worth and blew a large pink bubble that burst with a loud pop, smearing bits of chewed gum all over his mouth and nose.

Barry angrily snatched up the duster but it was too late. On cue with the morning bell, Kerry had entered the classroom almost behind him, obviously having just been dropped off at the gate. Her mouth opened slightly as she saw the large heart with the crookedly drawn arrow pierced through it and the words "Berry loves Kerry" but she only scuttled to her seat like a frightened rabbit and looked down at her desk, blushing furiously and never said a word. Small, pale and skinny, with large scared eyes and dark, curly hair, she was the quietest, shyest kid in the whole school.

"Oh, my God, Kerry Berry NEARLY spoke!" Gloria Sweeney, who could never be accused of being short of things to say herself, declared to the amusement of her giggling friends.

Kerry's surname wasn't Berry. Her quiet mouse of a mother, an older version of Kerry with exactly the same facial features and who dropped her off at the school gate at the last minute every morning (Barry guessed, probably correctly, that this was so that Kerry could avoid the playground teasing from the other kids) and then rushed back to her car with exactly the same head-down, hurried walk as her daughter, was called Mrs Mitchell. But somewhere along the line someone had thought if funny to rhyme Kerry with strawberry because Kerry went bright red if anyone so much as glanced in her direction and Strawberry had quickly been shortened to Berry. Maybe because he had two younger sisters himself, Lorraine and Emma, he'd felt a need to protect her ever since she'd arrived that term. Of course the other kids in the class quickly picked up on that and had baited him for a rise ever since.

Any kid who showed interest in the opposite sex was considered fair game but Barry Hyde and Kerry Mitchell were most fun because Kerry always blushed, Barry always hit the roof and the nicknames were...so PERFECT. For extra entertainment, free of charge, persuade some poor unknowing soul, maybe a newbie, that Barry preferred to be called Berry and then sit back and watch the fireworks! 

"For Gawd's sake, Barry, you look like you've seen a ghost! Here, dahl, pull up a chair, I'll make you a strong cuppa."

Irene bustled about as she spoke, setting the candlestick holder down on the nearest Diner table, removing her coat, flooding the eating area back into brightness with the flick of a light switch, boiling the water in the tea urn, as if she'd been looking after people all her life. As indeed she had. Few people would guess at the problems that had blighted her own life yet her personal tragedies, far from making her bitter, had given her a unique insight and empathy towards others.

Barry Hyde sat down and gave a small smile.

"Irene, I came to see if _you_ were alright. I was worried about you locking up the Diner and then attempting to walk home in this Baystormer. And it seems I got here in the nick of time, you had _every_ intention of going out in it." Barry meaningfully eyed the discarded coat.

Irene laughed dismissively. "Me? Tough as old boots, that's me! Whereas you, matey, either you really did come to help yourself to the takings or you've got something you want to get off your chest - and I've a hunch it's the second. So...the moment this tea's brewed, I want to hear it."

Her companion sighed and wiped his hands across his face. What was it about Irene Roberts? All his life he had seen women as the weaker sex. All his life he had held his emotions in check and been strong and silent. But Irene turned his logical world upside down. He watched her as she clattered cups, milk and sugar bowl, as the tea urn finally gurgled with a cloud of accompanying steam, as she poured boiling water into a large teapot. Knowing he couldn't keep this heavy secret any longer. Knowing Irene must be the one he told.

"Look, talk only if you want to talk. I don't want to be stomping my bloody big feet all over something that's none of my business and poking my bloody big nose in where it's not wanted." Irene said bluntly as she poured the tea.

"No, Irene. You were right. I _do_ want to talk." Barry spoke more composedly now, feeling the reassuring calm that, despite the somersaulting of his heart, inevitably descended after just a few minutes in Irene's company.

He _had_ come here to unburden himself of the terrible secret and he would. He cupped the mug she placed before him and took a deep breath. But his plans were to be thwarted.

"Darn it!" Irene exclaimed as a loud roar of thunder overhead was accompanied by a crackling flash of lightning and the Diner was plunged once more into thick darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was bitterly cold. The wind screamed in her ears and every inch of her body shivered uncontrollably. She clung to something soaking wet that covered her shoulders and upper body, desperate for its meagre warmth, longing to wake. But the strange dream held her in its grip. She was rocking in the middle of a pitch black ocean and vaguely aware of another presence. They were in...some kind of vessel...a box? a boat? a raft? Rising and falling. Rising and falling, rising and falling, making her want to heave in time with its relentless rhythm.

The figure she sensed close by let out a string of expletives as a higher wave crashed against the side of their vessel and they spun crazily round towards lightning flashed rocks. She knew now who it was. Kane Phillips. She should have been terrified but exhaustion overwhelmed her. And anyway this was just a dream, wasn't it? _Wasn't_ it? She groaned in weak agony as the little wooden rowing boat smashed like a matchstick against the rocks and cruelly thudded a juddering pain against her ear.

"Hold on to me," the voice said, and the voice seemed to echo from far away. "We'll make our way up when it's light enough to see, when the storm's done. It shouldn't be too slippy, the waves'll be calmer then." The voice doubted itself, the presence dragging her ever upwards, tugging the meagre warmth that wrapped her further up her shoulders, locking tight arms around her waist, giving a welcome body heat as they lay down together on the cold, hard stone.

"Don't die," the echoing, faraway voice said to the back of her head.

And was it midnight? Or was it much, much later? Somehow it seemed fitting if she were to flee this harsh world at midnight. Sleep now. Close tired eyes. Tender, oblivious sleep.

"Don't die," the voice begged again.

In the middle of the darkness a faint ringtone emitted from the pocket of her trousers before fading away altogether. If they hadn't been in so much danger it would have been laughable.

_I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world, life in plastic, it's fantastic..._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Damn! Just when she'd finally made up her mind to have a chat with her adopted daughter Hayley the cellphone rang out only briefly and then went dead. _Cellphone! _Julie Smith smiled at her reflection in the mirror, running her tongue over perfect pearly teeth and thinking all the expensive dentistry had been well worth the money. Americanisms often peppered her conversations now. She had become truly acclimatized.

An American twang had crept into her accent and while she was still occasionally asked if she was from _"outta town"_ yesterday two Chinese tourists had mistaken her for Roxy Clark, who'd become a minor celebrity after appearing on a quirky over-40s Big Brother style US TV show, and pleaded with her to have a photo taken with them using their timer camera. She should have put them right but the temptation had been too great. Who'd have thought it back in high school? Plain Julie Fleetwood, now married to wealthy property developer George Smith, plain old Julie who'd sat at home sobbing her heart out listening to the lyrics of that same song over and over

_I learned the truth at seventeen  
that love was meant for beauty queens  
and high school girls with clear skinned smiles..._

had successfully posed as someone regarded by many viewers as the most stunningly attractive over-40 Housemate and who, back in 1982, had won her small American town's beauty pageant (Roxy had successfully gained the sympathy vote when, with tears streaming down her cheeks in the Diary Room, she'd told how her moment of triumph had been ruined by hecklers waving _"Ban this Cattle Market"_ signs). Caught up in her own charade, Julie had obligingly even signed the name _Roxy Clark _on the Hollywood street map the awestruck Chinese girl had been carrying. She should have felt guilty but where was the harm? They had thanked her profusely and gone away with stars in their eyes.

And strangely she had thought suddenly of Hayley.

Will had been seven and Nick eighteen months when the adoption was made official yet it was as if they'd always been her sons. But somehow she had never connected with her adopted daughter. At five years old Julie herself had never been interested in traditional girly pursuits, preferring footie, climbing trees, digging up insects, and a hundred and one other boyish games with her twin brother. She could well remember a peculiar conversation when Hayley had been around five years old, when the little girl had climbed up on the park bench to sit beside her and enquire if she was as pretty as Princess Precious, a character in the bedtime stories Julie read to her.

She'd watched her squint up at the sky in smug satisfaction after Julie reassured her that her eyes really were as blue as the sky just like Princess Precious's had been, feeling sadly at a loss as to how she would relate to this child when they had so little in common. Even today she found it much easier to talk to Hayley's friends Martha and Cassie. Cassie's shy awkwardness reminded her of the angst of her own teenage years, Martha's sexless, boyish clothes brought back vivid memories of her own lack of interest in fashion.

Julie stared critically at her reflection, piling up her hair and wondering whether to go for yet another completely different style. What else was there to do? She'd already had a facelift, boob job, had her own personal trainer, did a strenuous workout every morning and every afternoon lunched, shopped and topped up her golden tan. There had been...um..._offers_, of course, but Julie was a one-man woman and genuinely loved George even if he was married to his work nowadays. She sighed. Hollywood had lost its glitter. Not that it ever held much for her to begin with. Unlike Hayley, Julie had never been particularly impressed by fame and glamour but Nick had been far too young to go to the States without a guardian when a Hollywood talent scout, who'd seen him playing the lead in his drama school's production of _Oliver!_ reckoned Nick could pass for two or three years younger, which made him perfect for the part of tragic tug-of-love kid Harry in a new romantic tearjerker.

Nick's contract binding him to the movie meant his career otherwise was non-existent, but the Smith family were already wealthy enough to live the lifestyle and Nick, unperturbed, had another interest anyway. Brooke was the same age but years older in her head. Her Mom and Dad were both something in advertising, Julie could never figure out exactly what, while her older brother, a drummer in a rock group, was in rehab after talking crazy on stage during a gig and later being found slumped in his dressing room after taking a cocktail of drink and drugs; Brooke had proudly showed her the newspaper stories.  
Julie threw the cellphone down on the sofa and decided she would pamper herself in the jacuzzi and then ring her husband, maybe persuade him to take a vacation. Or better still persuade Nick it was time _they_ took a vacation back to Oz. If she even missing Hayley's shallow conversation, she really must be homesick.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"There! I knew they had to have another use other than bashing burglars." Irene grinned as she blew out the match. The flickering candlelight of four burning candles cast wavering shadows on the walls of the Diner while rain rattled against the window panes. "Look, dahl, it's alright if you'd prefer to sit here in silence." She added gently.

Barry shook his head. "Give me a few moments," he said hoarsely.

It had been stormy that night too. He remembered so much of that night. Sights, sounds, smells. Images indelibly printed on his mind, conversations etched in his heart and soul forever.

_His wife stood motionless at the top of the stairs, looking like a ghost in the thin grey light, and he raced up them two at a time, called from a late night in the office preparing papers for tomorrow's annual parent/teacher day by her increasingly frantic phone calls. _

"Kerry! Kerry, what's wrong?"

She was carrying something laid across her outstretched arms. Jonathan's christening gown. Her eyes were glassy and a thin smile played on her lips though small tears rained down off her chin.

"It's too late, Barry. Jonathan's gone to Heaven. I left him for just a moment and the angels came. I knew they would come tonight. We have to prepare him now."

He pushed past her into the bathroom, in a room still permeated by soft baby smells of oils and talc and creams, and to his horror saw the small lifeless body floating face down on top of the bathwater. He scooped up his infant son and lay him tenderly in his lap, pressed his mouth over the tiny mouth and nose. He gave two slow, desperate breaths and searched in vain for a pulse. Nothing. Breathing and checking over and over. But nothing!

He placed two fingers on the baby's chest and pressed five times, so terrified of accidentally crushing those tiny ribs. And still nothing. Again he sealed his lips over the tiny mouth and nose. All to no avail. He heard an unearthly, wolf-like howl and realised it came from himself. 

"I was thinking of my wife. Kerry. Irene, I...I..I..."

And Barry Hyde, temporary principal of Summer Bay High while its regular principal Don Fisher was on a six month visit to New York to see relatives, and who could strike fear into the toughest student's heart at five paces, broke down and wept like a child.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were laughing as they ran down towards the school. It had been a stupid idea, they knew, to go for a slow, romantic walk in the pouring rain. But they had never done it before, either of them, when they were younger. They had never done silly, spur-of-the-moment things. Gypsy had made the leap into adulthood without the angst and romance of teenage years, scornful and cynical of the those her own age. Jack had discovered at a very early age that his good looks and charm could get him anything he wanted.

He'd had girls queueing to kiss him at the tender age of six when his best mate Matthew Randall realised they could cash in on Jack's popularity and for a charge of one bar of white chocolate, a strawberry-flavoured lollipop or a sherbet dab (all of which were Jack's favourites and could be obtained from nearby Ye Olde Summer Bay Lolly Shoppe where Mrs Parker, the proprietor, wondered at the sudden run on sherbet dabs, white chocolate and strawberry lollipops) Jack Holden would pucker up his lips and plant a smacker. That first week they made six lollipops, eight sherbet dabs, five bars of white chocolate, two tim tams, a yo-yo and a key-ring size Pokemon game that nobody, including its previous owner, could figure out to work (negotiated) and Ellie Woods had run off in tears because he wouldn't promise to marry her. Within two weeks he'd kissed most of the girls in the class and some had even come back for more.

Chicks, he discovered as he grew up, would do anything for even a glance of those melting brown eyes or a careless smile. Except when he was grown up it was far, far more fun. By then he'd discovered the wonderful world of sex. He never committed himself. He was determined not to. In his own way still taking revenge on his mother for walking out on them all those years ago and leaving his father broken-hearted. Love 'em, leave 'em had been his philosophy. Until Martha McKenzie. And now it was too late with Martha but it wasn't too late with Gypsy.

Maybe they really could fall in love. If they took it slower than they'd ever taken any relationship before.

They saw Megan Ashcroft strolling alone towards Whitelady Copse and went to see she was okay. But Megan was just being Megan. She said they made a great couple and she looked at them sadly. Almost wistfully, Gypsy thought.

"Tony'll be back on Monday, won't he?" She said consolingly. "It'll pass in no time."

"I guess so." Megan smiled. "Thanks, guys, I'm cool."

She laughed and turned as if she didn't have a care in the world, but when Gypsy looked back for a moment, she was standing watching them. But Megan only waved goodbye with the hat and twirled around though Gypsy had the strangest feeling she was crying. But who knew with Megan? Who knew anything anymore?

Under the starlight they had made a pact that would have been alien to them not so very long ago. They would not make love. Not for quite a while and then only if they were _truly_ in love. Under the magic of that night anything was possible.

"Omigod, it's Kit and Noah!" Gypsy yelled, espying their friends down by Summer Bay High. "Hey, guys!"  
"Sanctuary, sanctuary!" Jack roared, mimicking the hunchback of Notre Dame - they had been studying _Victor Hugo's _works in English Lit - and he and Gypsy laughed as they grabbed each other's hands and in the teeming rain they half ran, half slid down the muddy hill. They were greeted with whistles and whoops and she and Kit hugged while Jack and Noah slapped each other's shoulders. They were all talking at once.

"The common room's probably the warmest place. Heats up faster than anywhere else," Noah said, pushing open the door that was closest to his own student counsellor office and to which he'd been entrusted with the numbers of the combination lock that he'd long since memorized. And then he stopped suddenly. Kit gasped loudly in shock.

"Hold me. Please, please just hold me," Gypsy pleaded as she fell against Jack and silently he held her close and stroked her back.

No noise other than Gypsy's sobs and the raging storm pervaded the quiet of the common room, its wall adorned with a blown-up photograph of Gypsy naked and scrawled above in large bold letters the single word _"slut_".

_Barbie Girl ©Aquamarine  
At Seventeen ©Janis Ian_


	25. Chapter 25

**I'm a little bit stunned, to say the least, at the number of people who viewed the last chapter :) This is an Irene/Barry chapter, I'll be concentrating more on the other characters in later chapters. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy the next instalement.**

**Chapter 25**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

**_Guardian Angels_ **

"Irene, I..."

Barry Hyde gulped back his tears, ashamed that he had been unmanly enough to let them fall. Through the wavering yellow candlelight he looked at the only woman other than Kerry he had ever given his heart to. But he could not meet her eyes. Those eyes had once looked at him with love and he didn't deserve her love when he was what he was.

"Only my sister Lorraine knew. Ever knew. Lorraine's dead now. She took our secret to the grave with her." He pressed his palms down hard on the table as if for support, seeking the strength to go on. "Irene, Kerry didn't leave me like I always led you to believe. Kim was a baby..." He swallowed several times knowing his words were about to change everything. "She was trying to drown him, he was just a baby... I'd always suspected she'd killed Jonathan but I didn't know, I didn't want to believe it...And the coroner recorded Jonathan's drowning as accidental death..."

Tears, refusing to be quashed, refusing to listen to his inner voice that tears were weak, rained down his face again at the memory. "It was post natal depression. I should have realised, I should have got her the help she so badly needed. But I didn't. I didn't give her a chance. He was only a baby and she...Irene, I...I flew into a rage and...and...I...I...killed her..."

Breathing quick, shallow breaths as though he'd been running, he dropped his gaze and waited. Waited for the shock, horror and condemnation, for the barrage of questions, for her to recoil in disgust. These hands had murdered. These very hands had taken away the life of a human being. His hands. His hands, being taken into the fold of another's tenderly as a mother takes her child's.

"Irene, how can you...?" He whispered emotionally, trembling. "I thought..."

She squeezed his hands reassuringly. "I know how I should feel but I also know you're a good man, Barry Hyde. And I've lived," she added, her voice dropping to a whisper.

_"Okay, who's next? Anyone wanna DARE to take ME on?" _

_Eleven-year-old Irene McFarlane swung the makeshift weapon - a tennis ball inside a sock - around her head and glared threateningly at the gathered crowd of kids. Of course nobody dared. One look at that furious red face and angry eyes was enough. Not even Eric Sharp, the school bully, the one who'd got his little brother and his mates to carry out Benji's latest bashing was going to chance it. But everybody hoped somebody else would. Wild Irene was like a madwoman when she did her block and it made for great entertainment. However, their hopes were to be dashed. A shrill whistle cut through the crisp breezy air carried from the nearby sea, announcing that recreation had finished and pupils were expected to be back at their desks in ten minutes exactly. The crowd of interested onlookers, careful to hide their giggles from Wild Irene, began to reluctantly disperse._

_Seven-year-old Benji, cowering behind the safety of his older sister, tugged on the back of her hand-knitted cardi and announced in a stage whisper, "Irene, our Irene, I think I need...uh-oh!"_

_The abrupt comment confirmed it. Irene knew even before she turned and saw the trickle of yellow urine running down his leg._

_"Aw, Jeez, Benji!" She sighed. "Pin back your bloomin' lug'oles and listen and listen good. You gotta learn to start standing up for yourself, mate. I won't always be around to fight your battles."_

_Benji looked up at her in alarm and wiped a tear from his eyes with a small brown fist. Did this mean she was abandoning them? It was unthinkable. Irene always looked out for him. She looked out for all the McFarlanes because...because...well, somebody had to. Young as he was, Benji realised they were different . They were dirt poor without a regular Dad and their clothes were charity shop rejects or home-knitted or hand-me-downs and nobody seemed to like that. They shouted names after them in the street, they called them b-----ds and devil's spawn and if they were shopping in the mall with Mum and neighbours saw them they'd look down their noses and move away like she carried some terrible disease, whispering stuff behind her back, nasty stuff, he figured, because sometimes on the way home Mum's eyes would be red and she'd be sniffling a little bit though she tried to hide it. For some reason though Irene got it worse than the rest of them. Irene didn't cry though when folk said she'd probably end up a bludger and cheap like her Mum. She yelled back and occasionally used her fists, but then they called her Wild Irene so she couldn't win even if she won the fight (which she usually did) and next thing their olds would be banging on the door to complain she'd bashed their kid._

_His bottom lip wobbled in trepidation. "Where ya goin', our Irene?" He asked worriedly._

_Irene felt a stab of guilt. "Nowhere, Benji," she answered gently and spat on the crumpled tissue that she fished from her school dress pocket to tenderly dab yet more blood from his bloodied nose. "There! All done. Now let's get you the dunny and I'll tell the twins to nick you a pair of shorts from the Lost Locker. You've got games this arvo so you'll be right."_

_She ruffled his black hair and sighed again. Benji was of mixed race and absolutely beautiful. Everyone commented on it. Once a couple of toffs in a limo had stopped and the woman, who'd been DRIPPING in jewellery, as Irene later told her mother, rolled down the tinted window to ask directions - a flimsy excuse, Irene knew, if they'd been truly lost the snooty-looking chauffeur would have been the one making the enquiries._

_"What a little sweetie!" The woman exclaimed in admiration, a term of endearment which made Benji squirm and grab Irene's hand in case they wanted to buy him (Benji had lately watched a kids' movie in which a wicked witch had turned all the children of the village into gold coins and it had given him nightmares). "What's your name, sweetie?"_

_Irene shrewdly weighed up the situation. Normally she wouldn't have given "plastic people", her disdainful nickname for folks with more money than sense who didn't live in the "real world", the time of day, for Irene McFarlane did not suffer fools gladly. But these guys obviously had money and this conversation seemed to be leading somewhere._

_"Benji. He's my brother," she said sweetly, when Benji was too tongue-tied to reply, and looking as coy and innocent as it was possible to look with two stolen bottles of pop poking their heads out of her mother's shopping bag as though both bottles were determined to be unashamed and hide their criminal past from legally bought groceries._

_The woman wrinkled her nose in distaste. Clearly Irene did not impress her._

_"Well, you buy your brother some lollies. I daresay the poor little mite doesn't get many."_

_The tone was accusing as though she suspected his sister of snatching away any he DID get and she grimaced again as Irene sniffed and absently wiped her nose on her sleeve before happily accepting the ten dollar note that was peeled from a wad of several more while her husband sat beside her smiling indulgently._

_"Ta, missus!" Irene winked at Benji, which, he knew, was always their signal to run and to the astonishment of the strangers, the two dirty-faced urchins raced away as though their very lives depended on it, leaving nothing in their wake but a cloud of sandy dust from their stampeding heels._

_They had stopped under the cooling shade of a large tree to drink some of the lemonade, giggling as it fizzed up into their hot, perspiring faces the moment the top was twisted off._

_"Now it's only cos I'm here that we took the dough. If I'm not here, you mustn't EVER take money or lollies from strangers in case they turn out to be sickos. Remember that or else!"_

_Irene hammered home the message literally with a series of short, gentle raps on Benji's head every four or five words after they'd each taken a couple of long swigs of warm cherryade straight from the bottle. Out of the whole family, Benji was her favourite. Shy, sensitive, dreamy Benji, with the heart and soul of a poet. It was hardly surprising that when he was seventeen he and a group of like-minded teenagers decided to travel round Oz in a converted bus, living off the land or charity or occasional seasonal work. And sometimes, he told her proudly during one of his intermittent phone calls, he and a couple of the guys busked and sang songs HE'D written and, in his very last phone call, he'd been buzzing because they'd made "heaps of money" and people had been asking who'd written the lyrics of HIS songs._

_But this was ten years away yet. Today her current concern was Benji's wet pants. She gave another deep sigh. It was all very well for the bubs in Reception class to wet themselves but Benji was seven now and life wasn't easy for any of the McFarlane kids as it was. He was just lucky her birthday fell when it did else she would already have swapped primary for high school and wouldn't have been around to protect him anymore. And she worried about Benji more than any of their other siblings._

_The twins, Katie and Jill, had each other and a father who sometimes called with presents for them and took them to stay with him and his girlfriend every other weekend. The younger kids were too young yet to know how tough things were growing up in a large, single parent family. But Benji had it tougher than most. While he was often admired for his looks the downside was that racists like Eric and Kevin Sharp bullied him. Not that they knew any better, Irene realised. Their bulldog of a father, a squat, thick-necked man with a permanent red face from heavy drinking, was notorious for his racist views and had even been locked up twice for victimizing a black family who'd had the misfortune to move into his neighbourhood._

_To Irene's relief, a sudden clatter of footsteps heralded the arrival of their nine-year-old twin sisters who, judging by their worried looks, had obviously just heard the news, and Irene thankfully handed Benji over to the twins' care and squinted up at the town hall clock over the way._

_Damn! Small wonder the schoolyard had become so quiet. She was already five minutes late for Cookery and Mrs Buckley would be none too pleased that yet again Irene McFarlane had "forgotten" the ingredients - this time for the choux buns they were meant to be baking. She quickly rolled the tennis ball out of the sock and crammed it into a corner of her school bag to make all appear innocuous, she'd had enough detentions this term for fighting, cursing and a hundred and one other things. Even when it hadn't been her fault - like not having the items required for cookery lessons and the proprietor of the local store who sold required items watching her like a hawk when she'd tried to obtain them since she'd caught Irene stealing often enough before._

_"Dark chocolate and double cream. We just can't afford it, dear. I've barely enough left to buy bread and milk till my welfare cheque arrives next week."_

_Evelyn McFarlane had shown her eldest daughter the few coins left in her purse and shrugged helplessly. She was a thin, pale, pretty woman with baby blue eyes, always up to her eyes in nappies and washing and always tired. Besides Irene, Benji and the twins there was Terry, four, Ruthie, nearly two, and little Christabel, eight weeks old. And she had just had her heart broken yet again. Evelyn fell in love far too easily._

_"You can't believe every single thing a bloke tells you, Mum," Irene frequently advised, not quite twelve years old and yet already wise to the ways of the world._

_But unfortunately Evelyn did. As soon as a new boyfriend whispered sweet nothings Evelyn inevitably convinced herself he was The One THIS Time and, swept off her feet by the romance of it all, took the relationship further. The Pill was not yet widely available and by the time she was she was thirty-three Evelyn had seven children to five different fathers. Apart from the twins' Dad none of them had stayed around long enough to even acknowledge their offspring - although Terry's father Jeff Maddox, a likeable enough layabout and petty thief, who sometimes worked, often didn't, and who liked to up sticks and move on without telling anyone because he "hated to be tied down", had belatedly reappeared and Christabel had been the result before he was off again._

_Irene was never able to discover anything more about her own father other than he'd been in the Army and his nickname was Hal (what his real name was, she never found out) because Evelyn had been so horrified to learn he was already married that, unaware she was pregnant with her first child, she'd cut all ties. Irene vowed she herself would never be so stupid. When she married (she was certain she would marry) it would be for keeps and her kids would be brought up in a secure, stable two-parent family._

_But of course when she grew up she discovered it wasn't quite as simple as that. Her own three kids had been taken into care because of her alcoholism and their father was nowhere on the scene. Her mother and siblings were long gone too - the twins, when they were ten, being taken by their father and his new bride to live in San Francisco and, despite his faithful promises to Evelyn, he never did send a forwarding address. And the rest of her family..._

_Over time things had changed. Jeff Maddox, the father of Christabel and Terry, finally decided to grow up and accept his responsibilities and Evelyn had lately gone through the menopause so there was no possibility of yet another unplanned pregnancy. After all the years of struggling, at last there was light on the horizon and money in the pot at the McFarlane household thanks to Jeff finally settling down to a regular job and even earning promotion and Irene, who'd left home to train as a nurse, sending home occasional cheques from her meagre salary for the youngsters to have treats. Evelyn excitedly booked their first ever family holiday, a week on a farm, and, suitcases full to the brim, they left their little grey town for the glorious Australian countryside._

_Irene heard later how they'd all been laughing and singing._

_There was a popular summer novelty song climbing the charts and they'd been singing the summer song at the tops of the voices as they took the bend. Mum and Jeff, fourteen-year-old Terry, twelve-year-old Ruthie, and little Christabel, only ten years old, and the sun blazing in a cloudless sky and the fields greener than they'd ever been after last week's rain. The couple in the other car survived. Little Christabel, Ruthie and Terry, Evelyn and Jeff, none of them ever sang again._

_Neither did Benji. Benji took his own life the same day._

_Tragically he learnt of the car crash through a television news bulletin except they got it wrong and said the victims, named by their neighbours as Jeff Maddox, 44, Evelyn McFarlane, 43, and her children, Terry, Ruthie, Christabel and Irene, had all died. There was believed to be another son, the report said, who had left home some months previously and twin girls, who had apparently emigrated with their father over a decade ago. Benji, who'd been watching TV and drowning his sorrows after a row with his girlfriend, was last seen alive with tears streaming down his face heading for a local beauty spot where his still warm body was found by a man out walking his dog._

_The police informed Irene only a few short hours after they'd brought her the devastating news of the car crash. Two of her friends from the Nurses Home caught her as her legs gave way and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. People were speaking to her but it was as if she couldn't hear, as if her brain refused to function anymore. All she was aware of was that through a window flung wide open to let in the sun-kissed air of that beautiful summer's day a bird was singing as if all was well with the world. Yet it couldn't have been because somebody was screaming._

In the shadowy half light two silhouettes rose without words but as if of one mind and held one another. At last he spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"We chose...we chose together the inscription for his tiny white headstone _"The brightest star in Heaven tonight is our little boy saying goodnight"._ I would stand at the window. Gazing up the stars and wondering if Jonathan was watching. I still do. I wonder if he knows what his father did, if he hates me..."

"Ssh, ssh." Irene spoke softly, stroking his face, touching the tears. "It's alright now. It's alright."

_One night, three years or more after their deaths, she stood alone on the beach of the little grey town where she had been born. It was a wind-chilled night and lights flickered in long-ago familiar buildings while the sea gathered all its strength and prepared to rush towards the shore. She pressed her feet into the powdery sand and, wrapping her coat tighter around her shoulders, head down against the wind, she had begun her solitary walk back to the town when a ray of moonlight suddenly cut across her path. She stopped, caught by surprise, to look up at the sky and through a curtain of misty tears she saw dozens of stars twinkling as if she and they were alone in the world. And in the lonely eternity she found herself wondering if some of those twinkling stars were the people she had loved and lost watching over her. So she named them, one by one, from the smallest and shyest for Christabel, to the brightest and most beautiful for Benji. And when she hurried from the beach, wiping tears from her eyes, the tide was already trickling over her toes but her heart was lighter. _

Another lightning flash. Two people needing each other captured in the soul of the night.


	26. Chapter 26

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thanks for your reviews, Frankie and eduardo bearo - EB, flattered as I'm a great admirer of your own writing.

After reading about the Nashes, I didn't feel Gypsy fitted in somehow and I needed to create a background for her so I've taken COMPLETE poetic licence with this chapter. Be warned tho, Gypsy's story is harrowing.

**Chapter 26**

**Tramps and Thieves**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

_We'd hear it from the people of the town  
They'd call us gypsies, tramps and thieves..._

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves © Cher

"You think I'm gonna let Miss Piranha get away with that? No way! No waaay!" Gypsy thumped Jack's chest to emphasis her point, her tears now tears of anger.

"Gypsy, just listen..."

But Gypsy was beyond reasoning. The photo had been torn to shreds. And it felt good. It felt like, if she tried hard enough, she might be able to rip the memories to shreds too. But, no, they were still there, tormenting her. Why wouldn't they go? It wasn't fair! She didn't want them. She saw Jack wince as she pounded his chest even harder, she saw the tenderness in his eyes as he tried to gather all her pain in his strong arms, but she had to hurt someone because the memories, they wouldn't go. She had been eleven years old...

--

"I want to know."

"No, Gypsy, you don't. Darling, it's for your own good."

"I have a _right_ to know."

"Please, Gypsy, darling..."

"Tell me! Tell me! You _have_ to tell me!"

Eleven-year-old Gypsy Nash picked up the nearest thing to hand. A clock would have done, anything would have done, but the nearest object just happened to be an extremely expensive antique ornament of a white horse carrying a warrior into battle, sculpted by a famous Greek artist whose name Gypsy could barely pronounce and which Natalie Nash had only recently purchased, after almost being outbidden, from an antiques auction to add to her collection. She saw the alarm in the her mother's eyes and a mixture of satisfaction, anger and guilt overwhelmed her, her heart and mind still racing.

"Serve you right, Natalie!" She yelled. "I'll never call you Mum again, see? You're Natalie to me now and him, he's...he's Joel, he's never been my Dad like you've never been my Mum and...and..."

"Gypsy, please sit down."

Unlike his wife's tearful pleas, Joel Nash's voice carried an air of quiet authority that penetrated like a sharp needle through his young daughter's fog of fear, anger and confusion. Before returning home to his native Australia and coming to live in Summer Bay he had been a police officer in Hong Kong, where the sweltering heat could sometimes act like a powder keg to bustling, overcrowded streets. He had twice been commended, once for successfully persuading an armed gang holed up in a bank to give themselves up without a single drop of blood being shed, another time for talking a suicidal man down from a motorway bridge. But those situations were nothing compared with what he had to deal with now: telling their adopted daughter the truth about her background.

They had made no secret of the fact Gypsy was adopted. When she was very young they had told her being adopted meant she was very special and that had been enough for little Gypsy to smile her bright smile as she snuggled down with her favourite teddy, content and secure after the regular routine of bath and bedtime story. When she was five or six she began asking questions. They told her no lies but nor did they offer any information that wasn't asked for. Gypsy knew the nurses had named her.

"Because nobody knew your name," her adopted parents had explained. "And gypsies are people who like to be free."

She wanted to know more about her early life and so they took little Gypsy and her eight-year-old brother Tom to visit the hospital where she met Margaret, the plump middle-aged nurse who had cradled her in her arms and given her the name Gypsy.

Margaret enveloped the little girl in such a tight hug that Gypsy had protested anxiously, "Help me, somebody, quick! I CAN'T BREATHE!" which had made everybody laugh. But she liked her new friend, despite the too-tight hug, and willingly clutched her hand to be shown round the hospital and quite seriously told Margaret, who was dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose, that it was okay, she wasn't choking now and so there was no need to cry, which, strangely, only seemed to make Margaret sniff all the more. It was odd. Gypsy didn't think about it until she was back home and then she drifted off to sleep wondering. By morning however she had forgotten all about it. Until she was eleven and stood in the parlour threatening to break the antique like her own life had just been broken and her mind suddenly plucked it from memory where it had lain hidden all these years..._Like Margaret, many of the people they met that day had secretly wiped away tears as though they knew a great secret._

"Who found me?" Six-year-old Gypsy asked curiously, shaking her glorious red curls and looking up at Margaret with her beautiful green eyes and gap-toothed smile, and unknowingly breaking the kindly nurse's heart. Margaret was a mother of three and just couldn't understand it.

"Some bigger kids," she said huskily after exchanging a wary look with Natalie and Joel, but fortunately Gypsy was happy enough with the answer. And Margaret sniffed back the tears again, remembering.

_Startled by the loud commotion, Margaret Fogerty, the most senior nurse on duty, apologised to the elderly man whose X-ray results she was checking and, after giving the student nurse hasty instructions, hurried out into the inevitably busy but normally fairly sedate waiting area._

Charlotte Mayfield, two weeks into her training, looking flustered and holding a bundle to her chest, her long thick black hair spilled out of its slides and pins, was doing her best to restore order but her voice was drowned in the sea of noise.

Chairs, had been knocked over, toddlers were screaming, Dawn Vernon was in the act of vaulting over the Reception desk, a furious pensioner hobbling on one crutch and whirling the other crutch in the air as though she fully expected to strike someone on the ceiling was shouting "Catch the bloody b--s!" and outpatients in assorted stages of age, health and mobility were chasing after several frightened ten-year-old boys who, finding the two outside exits blocked by burly men and stern-faced women, were running everywhere - though in actual fact the "several boys" turned out to be just three. Who'd decided to wag school. Thankfully. Because God only knew what would have happened if they hadn't. God only knew.

Tom and Gypsy were feted and enjoyed every single second of it. They were given huge slices of chocolate gateau with generous chunks of ice cream and long, tall glasses of fizzy lemonade (all great treats as their parents didn't like them to have too much sweet stuff) and when they went home both children, carrying armfuls of lollies, toys and books given to them by various hospital staff, were over-excitedly playing up and under threat of early bedtimes. Oh, but Gypsy wasn't stupid and she knew!

Lost children were ALWAYS but ALWAYS princes and princesses taken away by a kindly woodsman ordered by a wicked stepmother to kill the infant but the kindly woodsman could never bring himself to do so and instead left the child somewhere safe. So Gypsy knew, without anyone having to tell her, that she was a princess and one day the king and queen, led by a handsome knight on a white horse, would come for her.

The king and queen would weep tears of joy at finding their long lost daughter and Gypsy would marry the handsome knight with the white horse and they would all live happily ever after in the royal palace although she would still visit Natalie, Joel and Tom sometimes or have them stay over and Tom would be sooo jealous of the huge swimming pool she had all to herself and the soft downy feather bed with twenty mattresses that she slept on like the _Princess and the Pea_, she prattled non-stop much to her brother's annoyance (Gypsy loved to talk) while the afternoon sun hit Tom's bedroom window and captured dust motes spinning in its dazzling rays as if to tease them with its beautiful day.

Brother and sister didn't play together now as often as they used to, preferring their own friends, but today they'd both been grounded - a half-used tin of green paint they'd been stoked to discover in the garden shed, two paintbrushes acquired from same garden shed and a jumble of green pictures suddenly decorating the pristine white fence of the Nash family home being the reason - and had been building a miniature city with Lego bricks. And Gypsy was bemoaning the fact she didn't think there would be enough bricks in the bucket to build a palace _"like the one she used to live in when she was a princess."_

"Bull!" Tom declared scornfully. "You've never been a princess, dork!"

"Yes, I was!" Gypsy argued back. "And just for that I'm NEVER letting YOU visit my palace!"

"Palace? What palace! You're loopy, that's what you are!" It wasn't _that_ funny, but Tom was very bored and missing his mates and so he tapped his forehead, clutched his stomach and rolled around on the floor laughing.

Gypsy pursed her lips for a moment and then, being youngest, decided there was _no way _her brother was going to get away with this infringement. She leapt to her feet and ran to the door.

_"Muuum!" _She yelled at the top of her voice although the door, like the window left wide open to let in some air, was already enough to amplify any sound. _"Muuummm!_ Tom's _picking_ on me!"

To Gypsy' satisfaction, their mother's voice immediately resounded back upstairs from the kitchen where she was busy preparing dinner.

"Tom! Stop teasing your little sister or you'll be grounded even longer!"

Gloating with her victory, spoilt little Gypsy smirked and raced out of the room, dodging the slipper that Tom angrily flung after her by quickly pulling shut the door, following up her star performance by opening and closing it again to poke her tongue out at him before hurrying to the safety of her own room, secure in the knowledge he couldn't risk coming after her because he was already on a warning. She wasn't too perturbed by her brother's mocking. _Of_ _course_ she was a princess! It was a well know fact that boys especially brothers didn't know anything!

By the time she was eleven and the Nash family had returned to the Australia they had left for Hong Kong some five or six years previously, Gypsy had long stopped believing in the princess story herself. She'd heard stuff on TV, she'd talked about stuff with other kids. She knew all about single mums and poor mums and young mums and mums at school who didn't know they were having babies and lost all their friends because their friends were always out having fun while they were stuck at home with no money and a kid to look after 24-7. Gypsy's Mum and Dad, Gypsy had decided by then, both came from very poor families and had still been at school when they had their unexpected baby. She pictured them, aged about fourteen, still in their school uniforms, leaving their baby daughter at the hospital entrance, hiding to watch until she was found by some other kids and taken inside so they knew she'd be safe and then emotionally embracing each other and saying it was for the best for their little girl. When she was old enough she'd trace her real parents and they'd be so proud of her because by then she'd be beautiful and rich and successful, a movie star or model or singer or...

Jodie Beamish jumped at the stunned silence that had suddenly fallen around them, all eyes on herself and Gypsy now.

But she was sick of Gypsy Nash and her showing off! Jodie didn't have much going for her but she did have a good singing voice and she had hoped for a speaking part in the school musical _Bugsy Malone _but she'd only made one of the chorus girls (she mumbled her lines and was too self-conscious, Deirdre Kent, the drama teacher told her bluntly) while Gypsy, who'd only been in Summer Bay High and the drama club five minutes, for God's sake, had been offered the part of _Tallulah!_ Gypsy was forever dancing and singing and when she wasn't doing that she was showing off about her well-off parents and about how she had another Mum and Dad who loved her too but they'd been very poor and when she was rich and famous she'd find them again and give them heaps of money. Well, Jodie's Mum didn't like the wealthy, tickets-on-themselves Nashes either, especially Natalie Nash, always shopping in the most expensive shops, wearing designer clothes and going off to antique auctions and charity balls, and last night Jodie's Mum had told Jodie some shocking gossip.

"You're a liar!" Gypsy stared at her classmate. She might have expected something like this from snobby Hayley Smith, but Jodie Beamish? Jodie was one of the average kids in the school, neither a geek nor cool enough for Hayley's crew, simply blending into the background and fitting in.

"No, I'm not." Jodie's words were all the more convincing because she spoke them quietly though she was trembling. "It's true, I swear. Ask your olds if you don't believe me."

"Yeh, well, I WILL!" Gypsy promised with false bravado. "And then you'll have to get up in front of the whole school and apologise."

"It's true," Jodie insisted, scooping out her book as Miss Hope entered hellbent on cramming as much history into her students' heads in as short a space of time as possible.

Gypsy flicked through to page 36, uncharacteristically trying to ignore the Hayley-and-Adam-Kerr-led whispering that had broken out behind her. She'd prove Jodie Beamish wrong. The whole idea was ridiculous. Nobody believed it for a second especially not Gypsy. But the lines of the book were swimming, her head was banging and her heart was pounding. She didn't want to believe it but...Miss Hope noticing how pale she looked and, after establishing someone would be there to look after Gypsy, had sent her home immediately.

It was a Wednesday afternoon. Natalie was always home Wednesday afternoons, the day she "caught up with herself" as she termed it. Mrs Graham, the school secretary, drove her to their large white house close to the sea and kept asking, with worried looks at her gleaming car interior and the white-faced girl sitting beside her if she was going to be sick. Gypsy shook her head each time. She didn't know if she was going to chuck up or not. She didn't care. She was answering, she was aware of what was going on, but it was all happening to someone else.

_--_

_Michael, Josh and Sam thought they'd be able to run in, dump the kid and run out again before anyone had time to blink. The hospital was the closer than any house so it made sense. In fact, it boasted such panoramic views of the sea that 40 or 50 years ago a property developer who had wanted to build a hotel in the same spot tried to sue the town council when he lost out. But panoramic views and suing town councils were the last things on the boys' minds. After the initial shock, after they'd cried and called each other wusses, after they'd worried if they'd done the right thing or if they'd accidentally poisoned her by giving her a few drops of orangeade that Sam poured from his can of Tango on to his finger, they knew they couldn't just leave the bub there. But they couldn't afford to let anyone see them either. They were in heaps as it was._

Michael's olds said if he cut school one more time he could forget the bike he'd been promised for his birthday. Josh had been hauled over the coals because his marks were plummeting. Sam, who'd been the perfect student at his old school, had told them last week that his Mum had threatened to send him back to live with her ex, his Dad, so he could go back to his old school - though he didn't really think she would, he'd added hopefully, seeing as she hated even speaking to her ex for a few minutes when he came to collect Sam every other weekend. So they hadn't been planning to cut school that arvo. It just happened.

By noon the sun had climbed higher and higher and there was the gentlest of breezes whispering through the trees and the sea was rolling and swishing and calling. And it was double math after lunch. One of them, nobody could remember who, vaguely mentioned it'd be good to get their mark and then bunk off to take a walk in the sea breezes and almost before they knew it...

--

Gypsy remembered running down the path. She remembered turning to give Mrs Kent a wave as Natalie Nash opened the door and Mrs Kent returning the wave and the sun glinting on the dark blue car as it turned back the way it came. She remembered pushing past her mother and running into the parlour because she didn't know where else to run or what she was doing anymore.

--

_...they were on the cliffs, where it was cooler and the tough, rugged climb meant there was little chance of them being seen and rumbled. The three friends were fooling around, eating lollies gone sticky from the heat and crisps crumbled from their climb, lazily taking in the hot sun, idly discussing footie, computer games, the girls in their class, their favourite food and anything else that came into their heads, when they heard the mewing of a gull. They ignored it at first. But it sounded close by and in the end Josh's curiosity got the better of him and he stretched and strolled off to explore, leaving the other two elbow wrestling. Then things happened fast. There was something down there, he yelled frantically, and it looked like..._

"Such wicked, wicked boys," Student Nurse Charlotte Mayfield remarked, shaking her dark head, off duty now but unable to tear herself away from the children's ward.

The police had been called and the waiting room long since calmed down. The three ten-year-olds and their parents had been taken down to the station hours ago and the gloom of evening begun to settle.

"The poor little gypsy," Margaret Fogerty said tenderly, using the same words she had used when she'd first cradled the baby in her arms, looking down on the sleeping infant, fed, washed and clad in sleeping suit, oblivious to all.

The name stuck. The child was never referred to as Jane Doe. The hospital, the media, the shocked general public who sent gifts and money, one and all knew her as Gypsy. Natalie and Joel, the foster carers called in, who had a two-year-old boy of their own and were baffled by the brutal cruelty, decided to keep the name when they applied for adoption.

It was all the poor little mite had to call her own.

--

The Wednesday afternoon she learnt the truth Gypsy sat down like an automaton. The sea breeze stole in to gently flutter the light blue curtains and cool her hot face and the sunlight danced cobwebby shadows on the wall. She heard herself speaking a plaintive question and she heard the silence that echoed back for a moment because there were no answers and never would be.

"Why did they do that to me?"

"We don't know," Joel answered, called from his work by the family crisis. "We can only guess the person was mentally sick. But Gypsy, sweetheart, WE are your family and we love you."

Gypsy nodded, listening to her own rapid breathing thundering in her ears. It was true. It was all true. Jodie's Mum _had_ been working as a cleaner at the hospital the day the Nash family visited. She _had_ heard the Gypsy story from one of her colleagues and she _had_ recognised Natalie Nash when they came to live in Summer Bay. And Gypsy's world had crashed around her.

--

_Michael was bright red and shaking and convinced he was going to be sent to jail forever, despite the reassurances of his Mum and Dad sitting either side of him. They'd taken Sam and Josh to different interview rooms. A man came in and whispered something to the lady who was taking the notes and she nodded and looked at Michael, then she smiled. The three little boys weren't the villains. They were the heroes. _

_--"_I'll kill her!" Gypsy screamed, trampling her heels again on the shreds of blown-up photograph of herself naked with the words "slut" scrawled across now scattered under her feet like snow.

"We don't know for certain it was Hayley..." Noah began.

"Yes, we bloody well do ! Who else would it be? Who else hates me enough? Who else could sweet-talk Barry Hyde into giving them the keys of the school? He don't even like his own son!" Gypsy rounded furiously on her friends. "What do you expect me to do, Godfreak, pretend it never happened?"

"Gypsy, cool it..." Kit said, stung that Noah should be the innocent recipient of her fury.

"Yeh, well, she'll wish she hadn't done that. I'm good at destroying stuff. My family tells me so all the time. Everybody does."

Gypsy fell sobbing against Jack's chest. Since she was eleven years old and had learnt the truth she had destroyed everything and everyone. When Tom went to University and the Nashes moved to Yabbie Creek, Gypsy elected to stay with Irene Roberts. She had stayed there the first time after a blue with her Mum and Dad when Irene found her hiding out in the Diner and Gypsy flatly refused to go home. After that, she stayed there often. She didn't know why but there was something about Irene that she could relate to.

In a world where there was no one else.

--

So night had fallen again as night will, the world moved on and time passed by, swallowing yesterday into memories long forgotten. Whoever made the long climb, trussed the baby's tiny naked body like a chicken and left her to her fate high on jagged rocks in the blazing heat of a merciless sun was never found.

_And as they left the police station Michael wiped his tearful eyes with a grubby fist and said again they couldn't untie the knots, they'd tried and tried and tried but they were just too tight. _

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I watched a TV documentary a few years back in which a woman told how she was found as a baby tied up and abandoned just as Gypsy was. Her parents were never traced. There really are "people" in the world capable of incredible cruelty to kids.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Companions**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

"Noah? She'll...she'll be okay, won't she?" Kit looked worriedly across to where Jack and a now much calmer Gypsy sat huddled together and talking quietly. She and Noah had retreated to the far end of the room to give the couple some space. "I mean, your God person, He wouldn't let anything else bad happen to her, would He?" She added. "She's been through enough in her life already. Can't you do some of your God stuff? You know, where you trade prayers for favours? "

Kit was quite serious and despite the situation Noah smiled. "He's not just _my_ God, Kit, and it doesn't exactly work like that."

They had switched off the lights so that their presence in the school building didn't attract any unwanted attention and now and again lightning would steal in through the window to stay and watch for a little while, curious about its companions on this lonely stormy night. Noah had turned the radiators up to the highest control and the common room had become pleasantly warm, drying out their soaking clothes and hair. There was something strangely comforting and even church-like about the warmth and the darkness that made Kit feel as if she had to speak in whispers.

"Yeh, well, you know what I mean. You know all about God stuff and...and...I _hate_ Hayley!" Another lightning flash lit up the fury in Kit's face. "How can even that she-devil be so cruel? Having fights is one thing, stealing each other's boyfriends is one thing, but she knows Gypsy's history."

Everybody in Summer Bay High did, ever since Jodie Beamish had first revealed the secret when Gypsy was eleven years old. And if they didn't, if they were new to the area or the school, they were soon brought up to speed. But after they learnt of it nobody spoke of it again. Not even Hayley would have been stupid enough to broach a subject that was considered taboo. She knew she would quickly lose all her friends and hangers-on if she did. It was okay for Hayley and Gypsy to be sworn enemies, it was okay for Hayley and Gypsy to have cat fights or scream at each other in the schoolyard or pour cold melted toffee into shoes (as Hayley had once done) but bringing up a past as harrowing as Gypsy's had been would be fighting dirty. And even though Hayley hadn't directly referred to it, what she had done, putting up that blown-up photograph of a naked Gypsy on the wall for all to see, with the word _"Slut"_ scrawled across in large red lipstick letters...somehow it stripped Gypsy not just her clothes but of everything, reminding everyone of how she'd once been dumped as though she were no more than a piece of rubbish. And that had been the obvious intention.

Kind-hearted Kit sniffed and pressed her fingers to her eyelids and Noah drew her to him.

"Hayley's a...a...bitch! How can anyone be so cruel?" She said muffledly into his chest and broke down with silent tears.

It had always baffled her that not everybody understood why Gypsy had to behave the way Gypsy did.

--

"You can't stay under the ruddy table forever!"

The response to the challenge however was equally adamant.

"Oh. Yes. I. Can. Mr. Stewart."

Gypsy Nash, aged eleven years six months and feeling that eleven years six months was way too old to be hiding under tables, nevertheless stayed exactly where she was, clasping her arms around her legs and drawing her knees up to her chin. An end of her long red hair had caught in the corner of her mouth and instead of blowing it away she chewed on it. That was babyish too, she supposed, for someone aged eleven years and six months. A single tear splashed down on her knee and Gypsy immediately told herself to stop the pity and with a heavy but silent-as-possible sigh succeeded in pulling back the urge to weep uncontrollably. Good, good, good. She didn't deserve pity from anyone especially not herself. She listened to the conversation above as if none of it concerned her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Strike me roun'! What is it with that kid?"

"You know perfectly well what it is, Alf Stewart."

"Pampering to her though, Irene! Okay, so she had a rough trot and don't get me wrong, if I ever got my hands on the mongrel who could leave a helpless bub there like that..." Under his breath, the proprietor of the Summer Bay Diner Alf Stewart muttered a few choice and extremely colourful swear words that his customers would never have the privilege of hearing. "But I reckon the best thing to do is to get Nat and Joel round here quick smart to take her home."

"Alf, Gypsy doesn't feel she HAS a home." Irene kept her voice steady even though she saw the baffled look on her employer's face. He opened his mouth to protest but Irene pressed a finger to her lips. "I haven't finished."

Alf raised his eyes heavenwards and gave vent to an emphatic sigh but was obediently silent. Irene Roberts was one of only two people (his sister Morag being the other) who could actually win an argument with the no-nonsense, tough-talking, often intimidating direct descendant of the original founder of the little seaside town and who owned the Summer Bay Diner and much more of Summer Bay besides.

"Gypsy will make the decision for herself," Irene continued firmly. "Nobody else."

As if reading from a script and taking her cue, a dusty Gypsy embarrassedly shuffled her way out from under the table, self-consciously flicked back her mane of long striking red hair and placed her overnight bag on the table together with a random plastic teaspoon that she'd discovered during her half-hour sojourn.

"I'll stay here tonight, Irene," she announced quietly.

"Fine, dahl." Irene spoke as calmly as if Gypsy had arrived the way visitors normally did, directly through the door and not through the door and via under tables. "I'll give your folks a bell."

Gypsy nodded. It was the third time she'd stayed at the Diner. She couldn't explain even to herself why sometimes she just had to get away from her adopted family and why she was so drawn to Irene Roberts. All she knew was that Irene hadn't turned her away when she'd found her there the first time, just after Gypsy had learnt the truth about her past, when she'd planned to sleep all night under a table in the closed Diner with the half-formed idea of running away forever.

"Look, dahl, how about next time we cut out the shenanigans?" Irene said as Alf, knowing when he was beaten, shook his head and withdrew to the back room to sort out his gear for a night-time fishing trip. "Whenever you want to stay, you simply ask me and then I simply okay it with your Mum and Dad. It's a helluva lot easier."

"Okay. Thanks." Gypsy sheepishly hung her head.

Despite his brusque manner, Alf Stewart was a generous man. As the Diner owner, he could have laid down the law and flatly refused to even allow Gypsy in its vicinity. But he had known Irene many years now and trusted her judgement implicitly. It was good to know the Diner was in safe hands when he had to leave on business trips and fishing trips and Irene slept there to keep an eye on things - and now with Gypsy staying too whenever the fancy took her!

Admittedly it had got a bit awkward when his granddaughter Martha came to live with him - for some reason Alf couldn't fathom Gypsy and Martha had decided to hate each other and walked past each other in stony silence with their noses in the air - but that problem had quickly resolved itself. When Alf was home Gypsy went home to the Nashes, when Alf was away Gypsy stayed with Irene, and Martha, quite happily, stayed with Hayley or more usually with her best friend Cassie and Cassie's Gran. The arrangements suited everyone. Alf's fishing tournaments were becoming more frequent and when a old mate and his wife, both already retired, got him involved in golfing tournaments too Alf reckoned it was high time he too began to enjoy a semi-retirement. These days he was away more often than he was home. The gossip-mongers of Summer Bay, led by Colleen Smart, said there had to be a lady involved somewhere but if there was Alf wasn't telling.

When the Nashes decided to move to Yabbie Creek just as Alf had made up his mind to take a six month golfing and fishing holiday and Irene learnt her own house needed some major renovations that would take several months to complete everything fell perfectly into place. Irene moved in and, with the blessing of the Nashes, so did Gypsy. He popped back now and then, the last time a couple of days before the party of the year, as his granddaughter and her friends were already referring to Hayley's planned party, and, thanks to Irene, everything was ticking along nicely. She'd make someone a great wife, Alf reflected, though he certainly didn't consider himself in the running. Not that Irene would look at him twice. No, the twinkle in her eyes was solely reserved for Barry Hyde and Barry Hyde was very welcome to her, thank you. Alf was quite content to plod along as he was and delighted to discover that among the retirement circles he now mixed in females outnumbered males by three to one, but he had no plans to settle down with any merry widow.

He far preferred his freedom and his fishing. In fact, he felt exactly how he'd felt that night Irene had convinced him Gypsy should call the shots over where she stayed. Unlike the female of the species, fish were uncomplicated. Fish didn't hide under tables and bring overnight bags. Rivers didn't interrupt to say they knew better. Rivers flowed along in the same way they had for years, peaceful places where a man could go to forget his troubles. Looking forward to his night-time fishing trip, Alf had burst into a song.

_"Ol' man river, that ol' man river, he mus' know something but don't say nothin', he jus' keeps rollin', he jus' keeps on rollin' along..."_

Gypsy giggled and met Irene's eyes.

Irene winked, her lips twitching in amusement. "We're battlers, you and me. We'll be right."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey. I was wondering when you were gonna wake up."

Martha McKenzie blinked groggily. Kane Phillips sat beside her, shivering slightly, the sea breeze riffling through his hair, his chin cupped thoughtfully in his hands, looking as though he'd been sitting there watching her for some time. Early morning light filtered across a strange grey landscape and in the distance lightning flashed in eerie silence while in their alien stormless world a lonely sea lashed the rocks and sent icy splashes raining down through the gloom.

She sat up swiftly only to cry out as a red hot pain tore through one side of her head and neck.

"Take it easy, Mac!" He quickly placed his hand on her arm, startled by the sudden movement. "Don't try and move!"

"Why?" She demanded suspiciously, rubbing her sore neck, gritting her teeth and ignoring the pain. She was used to that. Working on the farm had been a tough, physical job and Martha was constantly having to prove herself to three older brothers.

Not that she could move much anyway. Her whole body still ached from the pummelling it had taken from the sea and the crash of the little wooden boat - if indeed there had been a little wooden boat, if this wasn't all some terrible nightmare...Yet it was all so vivid if it was. And she was all alone with a sicko who had already attacked her two best friends. It was vital she figured out a psychological plan that would hopefully get her through this unharmed. Unfortunately she didn't have a clue what that plan was going to be.

Martha McKenzie had decided to study Psychology at Summer Bay High purely because Psychology was an easy class to cut. Hayley had persuaded her it was cool to turn up for class, claim you needed to go to the library and then go off to sunbathe down on a hidden part of the beach and if you wanted to fit in at Summer Bay High you did whatever it took to be considered cool. But it did mean she hadn't learnt much about psychology. She racked her brains trying to remember something, anything, that might help now but all she could recall was Mr Tennyson droning on about statistics and her mind wandering to anything and everything .

It didn't take much for Mac's mind to wander when she'd just had yet another blue with Jack Holden. Anything to take her mind off that...

..._that lowlife. Rat. Jerk. Two-timing toe-rag. _The classroom was warm, making her drowsy, and her daydreaming wasn't helping matters. Tennyson. How the hell did he get a name like Tennyson? Was he related to the poet? Had he researched his family tree to try and find out? What was that Tennyson poem they'd studied back at Brookdown School? _Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, all in the valley of death rode the six hundred..._

Stifling another yawn, she began idly thumbing through the thick text book on her desk in a desperate attempt to keep herself awake and gave a long, low whistle of delight (a tomboyish habit that Hayley had told her was geeky and gross) as she came across something that immediately captured her interest. _Serial Killers - Is there a typical psychological profile? _And to the right of the intriguing words a footnote provided the appropriate index the reader should refer to for more information. Oh, wow! Serial killers! Now that HAD to be heaps more interesting than the complicated red-blue-green-yellow mysterious drainpipe shapes on the chart that Mr Tennyson had just clicked on to the video screen to replace the previous mysterious circular red-blue-green-yellow chart with a triangular slice taken out of it that reminded Martha nostalgically of the apple pies her mother used to bake.

"Miss McKenzie! I must say, it's delightful to see a student enjoying their chosen subject. These statistics really _do_ tell us a lot, don't they?"

John William Robert Tennyson, lately tempted out of early retirement to teach psychology at Summer Bay High, smiled indulgently. Absolutely no sarcasm intended. He really did believe that the exceptionally pretty, dark-haired, green-eyed student sitting at the back of his class was as fascinated as he was by the varying results of the research methods.

John Tennyson, a small, plump, silver-haired man with a round, cheery face and rosy cheeks (on his very first day at Summer Bay High and despite being clean-shaven earning the nickname Santa from its irreverential students) wasn't their usual type of teacher. He had spent the best part of his career tutoring the older, creme-de-la-creme, destined-for-top-universities-and-a-glittering-career students in Ancient History and Psychology at a small independent school for "gifted children" aged 13-18, cosseted and sheltered by their keen desire for knowledge and their extremely wealthy parents who were prepared to pay astronomically high fees in pursuit of it.

"Uh-huh," Martha agreed vaguely, smiling her most disarming smile back in the hope he wouldn't ask any questions, unaware of the effect that effortless sexy smile had just had on the pulse rates of every red-blooded male in the class.

Till Hayley kicked her under the desk and she remembered her teeth were too big and too many, like Hayley had often told her, and immediately closed her mouth again. And the index had been hugely disappointing and not much help to the situation she now found herself in. _Serial Killers - Is There a Typical Psychological Profile? Professor David White 14.99 Blackwell Publishers _had been the only information it imparted.

"Why d'ya think? You could do yourself more damage!" Phillips' rough voice brought her abruptly back to the present. "I had a walk round while you were still out and discovered at least there's fresh water here...don't mention it!" He added sarcastically as she eagerly snatched the small plastic bottle out of his hand and drank greedily, draining every last drop.

"Thanks." Martha flushed, spluttering and coughing with the speed in which she'd drunk, ashamed of her action now. She'd just been so unbelievably thirsty. Still was.

"No worries," he shrugged. "Heaps more where that came from. And even if there wasn't..." He looked up at the sky; "There's always rain. I reckon we'd easily find a container to catch it. There's all kinds of garbo been washed up here besides that bottle. Some guys obviously don't believe in recycling."

"What?" Martha spluttered again, this time wondering what the hell she might have accidentally swallowed, disgustedly dropping the plastic bottle with the barely recognisable wet and torn _Volvic mineral water _label. "Are you trying to kill me? Imagine the bacteria!"

Kane Phillips sneered. "Jeez, you're almost as bad as Snobby Hayley! Beggars don't get to be choosers, love. You can either die of thirst or take a chance on a few germs."

"Leave my friends out of this," Martha said haughtily.

"Yeh, right. I always knew Hayley was a germ." Kane Phillips guffawed at his own wit and Martha decided it was high time they changed the subject. Focussing on killing just might give him ideas.

"Where's the boat? Can we fix it?"

"What boat?" He was staring at her blankly.

"The one that crashed," Martha spoke testily, convinced he was winding her up. "The one we came to the island in. The one I hit my head on."

Kane Phillips guffawed. "Are you for real? There is no boat. We didn't come sailing here on a bloody Sunday picnic, for Crissakes! You fell in the river, I jumped in after you, you hit your head on the rocks when we made shore. You've been in and out of consciousness awhile though. Maybe that's what you were dreaming about. You did enough muttering."

He'd pulled her out of the river! Shivers ran down Martha's spine and she picked up something that had fallen from her shoulders earlier and wrapped it tightly around herself. The unmistakable smell of leather assailed her nostrils. A leather jacket. _His_ leather jacket. While he'd sat beside her, shivering. She was supposed to hate him. She wanted to hate him after what he'd done to Cassie and Hayley. But how could she hate someone who'd saved her life and risked his own to save hers? Who gave her water and warmth, and, strangely, someone, despite her fear, despite their constant jibes at each other...someone with whom she was beginning to feel an odd kind of comfort just by knowing he was there? She stared unseeingly at the distant storm, confused by her emotions.

He followed her gaze. Or thought he did.

"Faraway lightning. That's what my bro used to call it when we were kids. He was okay back then."

Kane Phillips sounded uncharacteristically wistful for a moment as he picked up a reefer thin piece of driftwood and began sketching imaginary lines on a rock.

"You have a brother?" She spoke more gently now, feeling guilty about her earlier harshness. "I didn't know."

"Trust me. You don't _wanna_ know." He pulled a face and threw the piece of driftwood back into the calmer sea. "You have three, don't'cha?"

What else did he know about her? Martha bit her lip, wondering. But what he said next was totally unexpected and sent shivers running down her spine even icier than those before.

"Mac, do you believe in ghosts?"

_Old Man River ©Jerome Kern/Oscar Hammerstein_


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**WISHES**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

Will Smith almost _didn't_ turn back. He knew her Dad had an insane dislike of his daughter's boyfriends and running into him again tonight just might tip Rhys Sutherland over the edge. He knew only a fool would stay out in a Baystormer. He knew when a Baystormer hit, it hit with a vengeance especially if it snapped on the heels of a sizzling heatwave, and the night was wild as the weeks preceding it had been gentle, the once glassy sea churning as though some gigantic butter-making machine was at work beneath the waves. Definitely a night for heading straight home and straight back to the party. Even if the chick _was_ red hot. So he stopped, holding on to a litter-bin, to think about it. _Baystormer & Angry Dad v Hot Chick._ Uh...no contest. He immediately staggered back the way he'd came.

Still thinking deep, alcohol fuelled thoughts. Like how come they always put inside pockets on a guy's jacket next to his heart? What was the deal with inside pockets anyway? Not big enough for a wallet, not secure enough for cash, not convenient enough for a mobile phone, right? A love poem, on the other hand...

He still had a copy of the poem he'd written for Gypsy right next to his heart.

He'd written it so many times trying to get it right. It wasn't perfect and it was never going to win any prizes for Literature and he'd later heard her mocking every word as she flirted with two guys she'd only just met. But it was still touching the rhythm of his heartbeat. Well, maybe it really was time to move on like Hayley kept telling him to.

"Stuff you, Gypsy!" he shouted drunkenly, shaking his fist at the thunderous sky. " Betcha Dani appreciates poetry!"

When he brought the fist down, the fist swept over his eyes and he had to force himself to think of other things. He thought of his kid sister.

Hayley said it was bad luck to turn back. Other people never suspected Hayley had heaps of superstitions but Will had known Hayley a lot longer than other people. It seemed she'd always been around and he'd always been looking after her.

He didn't actually remember the first day he saw her, being only two and a bit years older himself, but the 'rents said he'd been very disappointed. Even though they'd explained that Mummy was expecting a bub and would be coming out of hospital with a little brother or sister for him, _he'd_ explained that he'd rather have a puppy. On the day the key turned in the lock and his Mum and Dad arrived home, faces wreathed in smiles, Mrs Smith carrying a small bundle wrapped in a white woollen shawl, Mr Smith inviting him to meet "someone new", Will jumped up and down in excitement, stamping on the crayon he dropped (he and his babysitter, 19-year-old Laura Wilkins from next door who'd been called in very, very hurriedly since Hayley had taken into her head to initiate labour pains at 3.00 am yesterday and a whole month too early, had been busy scribbling patterns on the large sheet of paper that Laura had set up on a play-board on the floor). But when he saw there wasn't a puppy inside the shawl he'd pushed her away demanding, _"Take back, Mummy! Get puppy!" _

After a while however he kind of got used to having his little sister around. And when he was six, not long before the terrible accident happened, and after there'd been yet another addition to the family, a little brother Nick, the Smith family finally acquired a puppy! A small black mongrel with a shiny wet nose, permanently wagging tail, and pink tongue that was forever hanging out as though everything puzzled him about the world. Nick and Will loved him but Hayley, who'd once been frightened by a large dog, ran away screaming every time Jet came near (which made Jet think it was a game and chase her all the more) till in the end her mother was driven to distraction. It was another amusing family anecdote often told.

"_Hayley, sweetie, Jet will have to go," Sara Smith said gently, sitting on the bed beside her after Hayley had fled screaming to her bedroom because Jet tried to lick her hand._

_Alarm filled Hayley's big blue eyes. She had mixed feelings about the puppy although she was terrified of him. "I don't want Jet to go, Mummy!"_

_"We can't carry on like this," her mother sighed, and suddenly she wondered if she could perhaps persuade her small daughter to make friends with Jet by using a shock tactic. So she over-dramatically wiped her hand across her forehead in a way that would have done Bette Davis proud. "I can't cope. If Jet didn't go I'd have to go!"_

_"But I don't want you to go, Mummy!"_

_"Hayley, ONE of us will have to go!"_

_Hayley brightened suddenly as the perfect answer struck her. "Can't Will go?"_

Funnily enough at that moment, making a great show of turning her back on daggy Cassie Turner, Hayley was thinking back too. Forehead pressed against the window as she'd once pressed her face on the glass of the large toy store wishing her parents were well off enough to afford everything in there, she gazed out towards Whitelady Copse and shivered as another clap of thunder rolled ominously overhead and lightning framed the lonely, trembling trees, half expecting to see the ghost of Lady Eleanor staring back at her. The couple who had adopted the three orphaned Smith kids were wealthy enough to have bought everything in that toy store but...

_If only she could close her eyes and slip back in time to when she was very small and she couldn't have every toy she wanted but she did have a Mum and Dad who loved her._

_--_

Will had been the only beacon of light in the darkness. Not that Hayley, being five years old, would have been able to explain it like that. All that she knew was one day they had a Mum and Dad and the next day the car crashed and they didn't. Nick was too young to remember much. It was different for Will and Hayley. And Hayley still couldn't understand why they didn't come back, no matter how many times Will told her. Not even when she got to six.

She thought when she reached the grand old age of to six she'd know. But then she reached the magic number and their new Mum and Dad (who had the same surname and said it must have been because it was meant to be for them to adopt them) bought her a Cinderella cake with six pink candles and Hayley blew them all out _first go!_

But her wish still didn't come true.

Will was the only one who knew all about how much she still missed them, who never let her down by going away, and she shadowed him as faithfully as Jet had done. Because Jet had gone away too. He'd had to go. There was no room for dogs in the Children's Home they were taken to after the terrible car crash killed their parents, a sad little trio of unnaturally silent children, each clutching the three favourite toys they'd been told they could choose to carry with them.

_Five-year-old Hayley stood in her bedroom with Freddie Teddy in her arms, where the clean laundry her mother hadn't had time to put away that morning was neatly folded on her bed, aware the lady was getting impatient and trying to pretend she wasn't, unable to decide which two of her seven Barbies deserved to go on vacation and with a vague idea that she was going to come back later with Mummy and Daddy and put everything back._

_"Come along now, Hayley! Your brothers are all ready," the lady, Fiona, chivvied, tapping her foot without realising and glancing over her shoulder to roll her eyes at the lady who was helping Will and Nick and who seemed heaps nicer._

_And Hayley, worried she might be left behind, snatched up the nearest two Barbies and never did find out what happened to Molly. Molly had been a present her parents' friends brought back on a visit from the distant hot country they had returned to live in. She was a beautiful ebony colour with long black hair way, way past her waist, and ear-rings and necklace that sparkled like real diamonds. With scarlet ballgown that reached down to her sparkly shoes and lacy black shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Molly was obviously ready for some serious dancing but when last seen she was sitting on the wall shelf on top of three My Best Fairytales books, one arm flung in the air, head askew, one side of her hair loosely tied in Hayley's own pink flower hair-slide (her little owner had been playing hairdressers the day before)._

_Hayley often regretted her hasty decision but Molly had travelled with Hayley and Freddie Teddy on their last two holidays and none of the Barbies had been anywhere. But she wished she had chosen Molly instead. She wasn't like the Barbies, all toothy, eager-to-please grins and alabaster skin. Molly smiled too but it was a happy smile and Hayley wished...well, she wished she knew how to smile like Molly again. Since she'd come to live in the Home she had to make smiles happen like the Barbies did because somehow she couldn't quite remember how it worked. Sometimes, when she and Freddie Teddy lay wide awake, while Will and Nick slept in the boys' wing, while silver moonlight tried to creep over the top of the thick green curtains, while the sleep-heavy breath of the two little girls she shared the room with were occasionally broken by tiny snorts and murmurs, she would wonder about Molly, left all alone on the shelf with her only hair half done._

_When they went to live with their new Mum and Dad she told Will that Molly would still be watching out for when their real Mum and Dad came home so they'd know exactly where to find them. Will said if they did it would have to be as ghosts and she knew he wasn't trying to scare her because he was being very serious and not teasing her and he treated her to her favourite shell necklace candy on the way to school, not caring that his mates laughed at him for being soppy with a kid sister. After that she pictured Molly sitting exactly where she'd left her except it would be night-time and Molly's shadow would be all alone on the wall when the ghosts of her real Mum and Dad looked in._

_When they came back - because they WOULD come back one day - she was going to tell them all about how Will looked after her even if he did yell at her sometimes. Like now._

_"Fair go, Hayles! You haven't got time to play Don't Step on a Crack or You'll Break Your Back. We gotta to get to schooool!"_

_Six-year-old Hayley flashed her big brother a look of contempt._

_"You don't know EVERYTHING, Will!" She declared and continued to take giant strides over the broken paving stones to ensure she avoided stepping on any jagged lines._

_Stupid Will! She wasn't playing Don't Step on a Crack or You'll Break Your Back! Bubs in Reception played that and she wasn't a bub anymore! She was playing Don't Step on a Crack, And They Might Come Back...'cos...'cos they might, see? If they knew how much she wanted them to. She sniffed back tears, hoping Will's mates hadn't noticed. Boys always teased girls about crying._

_"I'd just drag her there if she was my kid sister, mate!" Harry said impatiently._

_"Nah, she's okay..." Will Smith grinned in his usual easy, laid-back style. "Just give us a few minutes, hey?"_

_They had reached the sweetshop they always called into on their way to school and the bell pinged in anticipation as Will's mates - unlike Hayley, he had heaps of mates - pushed the door and piled inside. But Will stayed with her, gently pulling her blonde curls round his fingers the way their real Dad used to do._

_"What's up then, buddy?" He asked, just like their real Dad would have done and using the nickname their real Dad always used when Hayley was upset._

_Her voice was a whisper. Tiny tears rolled down off her pink cheeks. "They haven't come back, Will. And I wished it on my birthday. And Molly's still in my bedroom and she's going to tell tell them where we've gone but they won't come back. Don't they love us?"_

_Will was only two-and-a-bit years older but he was heaps taller. He bent down and put his hands on Hayley's shoulders. _

_"Hayles, they still love us. 'Ciourse they do! But they CAN'T come back when they're dead. Only ghosts can come back and they know if they come back as ghosts it 'll scare us so they don't come back at all. We have to wait till we're very, very old to see them again. And, hey," he dug his hands into his pocket and jingled several coins, aware she'd already spent all her pocket money. "Reckon I've easy got enough for a candy shell necklace. Want one?"_

__

And she nodded and smiled a smile that was nearly how she remembered, following her big brother into the shop, knowing Will was looking out for her and always would.

--

In the darkness two figures holding each other lightly as friends were but a short step away from holding each other closer. And so they took that step. She smelled of a light flowery fragrance, of soap, of warmth and tenderness, of croissants freshly baked that long ago morning yet that had lived and breathed only a few short hours ago, when the sun was still golden and the sky never knew any darker clouds.

He had a sadness in his eyes that broke her heart. He woke scattered memories of those she had loved and brought every memory rushing and tumbling back to her mind.

"Barry, why didn't you tell me? Why did you suffer all this alone?"

"How could I tell you, Irene? How could I bear to lose you?"

"Barry, you haven't lost me...If anything..." She cupped his face and gazed into his tear-filled eyes and the silence between them spoke a thousand words.

"But you don't know me," he said hoarsely.

He wanted her to know everything. To cleanse his soul. He wanted to tell her about the cold wind that rose from the sea the night he dug his wife's grave and of the mewing cries of his newborn son as his sister hushed him. To tell her how each clank of metal on that hard ground sealed the evil inside him, how the silhouette of Lorraine cradling her nephew and standing a little away from him, on the tiny mound of ground created by the newly discarded soil, suddenly seemed as though they were on a distant hill, so far removed were they from he in their innocence.

The night would haunt him forever. The night and the moon.

_Panting heavily, he pauses to wipe the beads of sweat from his brow and look up at the accusing moon._

"Hurry!" Lorraine urges above the faraway sound of the roaring sea. Her voice grows more urgent. "For God's sake, Barry, hurry!"

Yet for him there is no God. There is no hope.

_The wind whips strands of hair across her face. The baby whimpers and she strokes his back and soothes and whispers. She herself is still in mourning for her husband. Her brother and a heavily pregnant Kerry attended the funeral just a few weeks ago, consoling her by the side of the grave, supporting her when she was so overcome by grief that she could barely stand. Their own marriage had been childless. Yet what would David have done, he wonders, if they had been blessed or cursed with a child and David had found Lorraine trying to drown their tiny, helpless baby the same way Kerry had tried to drown Kim and drowned their first born Jonathan before him? Would he too have been evil enough to wrap his hands around his wife's neck and push her down into the tepid bath water? Would he too have watched so unforgiving as her eyes bulged and her face reddened and bloated? Would only the child's screams of hunger have woken him from what he was doing when it was all too late and her body was limp?_

_Murderers mingle with shadows where none will find them. He holds his tiny son against his chest and, bypassing the switch that would flood the room with light, in the thick darkness dials Lorraine's number. When all around crumbles, blood is thicker than water. They have shared grief before, their parents, their sister Emma's death from leukemia when she was barely fourteen, David, now Kerry. She understands the need to hide his terrible crime. But more than this she understands he has a son to protect._

_So he digs on into the silent earth and the moon watching. Something burns in the corner of his eye, some grit or soil or grain of sand. And still he has no tears to shed. He grips the spade so hard that tomorrow blisters will cover his bloodied hands, he presses his heel so heavily on the silver metal that tomorrow he will find the blood seeped through his boots to leave its indelible print._

_His sleeping son now safely ensconced in his tiny crib, the baby alarm alert to the slightest noise, she pours them both a tumbler of whiskey from the half bottle she has found. Trembling, he accepts a cigarette from the packet she offers and he a non-smoker, he so steadfast in his advice to the students he teaches to never take up nicotine. David smoked till the last and finally succumbed to cancer but Lorraine says what does it matter, Death will come soon enough with his sharp scythe to pick each of us off one by one._

_His wedding ring sparks in the flame of the lighter and chinks against the glass. And still he cannot cry. But for the sake of his son he must go on. Knowing he will never get close to anyone again. Put an invisible barrier between those you love and thus never hurt or be hurt._

_This is important. This is what those of you who have loved and lost will know. Never give your heart._

_Oh, but sometimes..._

Irene locked her fingers in his and led him like a child into the living quarters. She let his hand fall from her grasp for only a moment while she lit the gas fire and into the cold room brought warmth and light too in her tender smile. The room was rarely used as Alf had given over to her his own more spacious and comfortable living room but here she had put her own stamp. He looked to the flower print home-made curtains brought with her from some previous life, to the dancing blue flames and to battered little old carriage clock still ticking away the years, to the framed photographs adorning shelves and walls. Family. Her family. And all that the light touched was tinged with flecks of gold and each flicker was a breath and each breath was carried on the wings of hope.

This is important. This is what those of you who have loved and lost will know. Never give your heart.

Oh, but sometimes your heart will be stolen.


	29. Chapter 29

**FEELS LIKE HOME**

**_written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat _**

_It feels like home to me  
It feels like home to me  
It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from  
It feels like home to me  
It feels like home to me  
It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong_

© Chantal Kreviazuk

"Summer Bay's a small town, Irene," Barry Hyde said, his voice choked with tears. You'll be ostracised if you associate with a murderer."

She only drew him closer. "I never gave a fig for what other people think, Barry. You should know that by now."

_Eleven-year-old Irene McFarlane tapped her foot as she strummed guitar and winked at Benji who sat in the front row between Katie and Jill, their twin sisters. Mrs Macklin's lips were set in a thin line and that glare could have frozen the local park lake but there was absolutely nothing the principal could do about Wild Irene being on stage and both she and Irene knew it. Irene had as much right as everybody else to take a turn._

Bonhomie was the theme Harper Junior School had chosen (no doubt to Mrs Macklin's eternal regret now) to celebrate the final day of the top class who would be moving on to high school after the summer break. Everywhere was decorated in French style with French flag colour posters, banners and balloons, all lovingly created by the youngest class who had for several months been exchanging letters, cards and small gifts with a class of similarly aged children in a small village in northern France. The idea was for photographs of the event to be sent to their pen-friends (the French kids would be hosting a "UK Day" the following week when their own school reached its end of term and its top class moved on to high school too) but Irene had a strong feeling that the four proud little seven-year-olds who had been chosen as "official photographers" and who were now innocently clicking their cameras would have certain pictures carefully removed at the development stage.

It had been Benji's idea that she go out with a bang that told everybody exactly what she thought of them and the way they had looked down their noses at the rough, tough, foul-mouthed McFarlanes and their mother who slept around and lived on welfare hand-outs - that is, they looked down their noses until extremely recently when snobs like Mrs Macklin realised little Benji just might make Harper Junior School famous. Irene no longer had any qualms about leaving him behind. Even the twins wouldn't need to look out for him anymore because Benji could and did look out for himself these days. In the last month or two he had grown taller, begun to lose his chubby baby face and had not only come out of his shell but was proving to be extremely popular. Nobody bullied Benji now, not even the racist Sharp brothers. And while he had plenty of mates to sit with nowadays, the McFarlane family led by Irene were united whenever they needed to be.

Benji's new found confidence was mostly down to the music teacher, Mr Halford, who, unlike the previous music teacher who passed timid little Benji by unnoticed, had discovered and encouraged Benji's obvious talent for music, lifting him from the obscurity of being too shy to sing above a whisper to the forefront of the school choir and a place in the school band, where Benji was busy learning to play a variety of musical instruments with kids three and four years older.

All of the McFarlanes had a good ear for a tune but as the seven siblings (three of whom were too young as yet to start school) had five different fathers between them, it's fair to say that their musical ability must have come from their mother's side of the family although Evelyn herself, who, surprisingly, didn't have a particularly good singing voice, couldn't think who. Her own father, she was told, had been a soldier and was killed in the war when she was very young and her mother was "distant" - although, Evelyn recalled, she did occasionally play piano and then quite well in the brief glimpses she had of her when she came home from boarding school. Her maternal grandparents she never once saw although they paid for her education until they faded from this earth within weeks of each other shortly after her seventeenth birthday, having delivered the final blow by leaving every penny of their estate to a cats' home and nothing whatsoever to their only child and grandchild.

Once her own mother died, Evelyn had no choice but to make her way as best she could and with remarkable tolerance in a world that, with a clutch of qualifications in subjects such as Ancient Greece and Embroidery together with a total inexperience of life in general, she was ill prepared to meet. It wasn't until Irene pointed out to her that she was almost certainly born illegitimate and her grandparents wanted to hush up the "scandal" that it even occurred to Evelyn her grandparents might not have had her best interests at heart when they sent her away for an exclusive private education.

Irene grew up fast not only because she was the eldest but because she had to. Despite her expensive education, Evelyn wasn't the brightest button in the box and her refined accent and ways marked her out from the folk she now mixed with. One of Irene's earliest memories was of throwing orange peel at a couple of women who had upset her mother and her mother being absolutely horrified (even though, to Irene's annoyance, it missed and passed its intended targets by unobserved) and telling her it "just wasn't done." Okay, it wasn't, Irene decided. At least not when Mum was around to see it...

She saw by Mrs Macklin's expression that she recognised the tune. Good. The very first moment Irene heard it (when she'd been browsing through her mother's record collection) she'd thought it summed up their narrow-mindedness perfectly. Its name had been a delightful coincidence. She smiled sweetly and launched into song.

...I want to tell you all a story 'bout a Harper Valley widow wife  
who had a teenage daughter who attended Harper Valley Junior High...

_But it was the last the few lines that gave Irene most satisfaction and she deliberately sang them over and over pretending she'd forgotten the rest of the words. It was a moment of triumph that often came to her, that strong family bond she shared then with Benji, Katie and Jill who were clapping their hands and singing along.  
_  
_...When you have the nerve to tell me as a mother I'm not fit  
Well this is just a little Peyton Place and you're all Harper Valley hypocrites  
No, I wouldn't put you on because it really did, it happened just this way  
The day my momma socked it to the Harper Valley PTA..._

"Irene, how can you always be so strong?" He asked wistfully, wishing he could give something back to this woman who gave him so much, wishing he could be with her in that faraway memory of something only she saw.

"I wasn't always." Her voice quavered with emotion as it brushed against his chest and he tangled his fingers gently in her hair glad he could at least give her that small comfort. "After my family's death in a tragic accident and my brother's death by his own hand when he was only seventeen I didn't sing again for a long time."

And Irene crumpled into tears while Barry held her.

--

Clutching a mug of steaming hot chocolate, Dani Sutherland tweaked open the bedroom curtain a fraction and peered out the window to admire the storm. Her first Summer Bay party had been awesome. Will was cute and she'd enjoyed putting that slag Gypsy Nash and that snob Hayley in their places. She'd seen the guy of her dreams at that party tonight and she was still on a high. Talk about _gorgeous!_ They must have invented the word just for him. _Sex on Legs_, as her friend back in the city Alison Parr used to say. She couldn't wait to ring Ally tomorrow and tell her all about how hot he was. Lovely eyes, great smile, and oh, _wow! _that manly physique! She gasped suddenly, her thoughts tailing off as a flash of lightning lit up the unmistakable figure of Will Smith creeping up the path in the pouring rain.

Dani's bedroom was to the side of the house and so she had an ideal view of the front door. She watched intrigued as he slid something under it and then, looking round all ways as though he half expected lions to be unleashed, raced back into the night. Did she dare sneak down again to find out what it was? The olds - well, okay, just Dad - had had a hissy fit when she'd gone down for the hot choccie, no doubt imagining Will had been hiding round the corner and she was going to sneak him in for pashing session. Yeh, well, _as if! _

Although if Will had only been Davey Molyneaux it might have been a totally different story...

--

Martha McKenzie rolled her eyes in exasperation. "No. In answer to your question, I _don't_ believe in ghosts," she replied.

After her initial terror (obviously what Phillips had intended when he fired the shock question, the two of them being all alone as they were on this eerily silent island) and the unexpected roller coaster of emotions telling her she couldn't hate someone who'd just saved her from drowning she felt suddenly back on _terra firma._ _Why_ couldn't she hate him? There was no law said she had to be eternally grateful, was there? Fate may have thrown them together but that didn't mean she had to like it or like him. She might have well have washed up on shore anyway. Years ago just before she set off on a school boat trip her brother Macca, busy smearing butter and strawberry jam on a thick slice of toast for his brekkie and still sore with his kid sister because she beat him in a swimming race across Shrewton's pond the day before, had remarked that bodies floated anyway so there was little point in her trying to battle the waves if she happened to fall in.

"Chill, babe. I just wondered." He stretched to retrieve the discarded plastic Volvo mineral water bottle, shook out the last drops of water and newly acquired dirt and glanced up to regard her with the same patronising smirk he reserved for most people especially girls. She knew the smirk was there simply to annoy her and what was more he was succeeding.

"Why?" Mac could feel her hot temper slow burning like a neglected pan on a cooking ring.

Her ex-boyfriend Jack Holden and her three older brothers had liked to deliberately wind her up at times too but she'd never taken any nonsense from Jack and her three older brothers and she was damned if she was going to start taking it now from this jumped-up little jerk. Who did Phillips think he was? He may have rescued her, she owed him that, but nothing changed history. Nothing changed what he'd done to Cassie and Hayley.

Kane Phillips shrugged lazily and slicked back his hair, still smirking. "You really wanna know? Okay, sweetheart, I'll tell you. When we were out there on the water I saw something weird. A kind of misty shape following us. Whatever the hell it was, wasn't interested in me, love. I swear I heard it whispering _your_ name though..."

Martha glared. "If you're trying to scare me, you're wasting your time. And get this, loser. I'm not your babe, sweetheart or anything else, never have been, so that stops right here, right now."

He laughed. It was never a good idea to laugh at Mac when her anger was slow burning but he wasn't to know that. Not yet.

"_Sheesh! _You ever think of becoming a cop like Jacky-boy wants to be? If they ever remake _Prisoner_ and need some extras, babe, you'd shape up well as a sadistic screw like Vineg... _Jeee-zus!" _He stopped laughing suddenly and reeled backwards in both shock and not a little pain as Martha's fist caught him square on the chin and made him bite down hard on his tongue.

"S--t!" He spat out salty blood two or three times and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Mac sucked in a breath, not caring how far she'd gone now. "Well, STOP calling me babe and DON'T call Jack Jacky-boy and DON'T compare me to...to..."

No way would she give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Martha gulped back the onset of tears. When she'd first come to live in Summer Bay, her grandfather Alf Stewart had blown the dust off the Stewart family album to introduce her to family that until then she never knew she had. Great Aunt Celia, still out doing missionary work somewhere, had looked so much like Vera Bennett from _Prisoner_ that Mac had done a double take. And she'd swallowed a lump in her throat then just as she did now because the same memory returned.

_The memory of an autumn evening, leaning back against Mum's arm-chair - despite the abundance of comfortable furniture, Mac preferred to sit on a large cushion on the floor, half doing homework, half watching TV - stroking Prince's floppy ears as the dog rested his head and two front paws across her lap, one ear cocked to listen out for trouble. (Although exactly what Prince intended to do if there ever was trouble was anybody's guess - during his last outing with Mac, a big dog had snarled back at him and, despite his size, he'd tried to jump into her arms like he used to when he was a puppy.)_She'd psyched herself up for a furious row with Kane but to her amazement he was grinning. "Okay. Guess I earned that, Mac. Go, girl power! _Re-spect!"_

But Prince was safe enough from snarling dogs now and his tail swished contentedly at their laughter. Prisoner was on TV. Lizzie and Bea were brewing grog in the prison laundry and Doreen had been sent to cover for them because warden Vera Bennett had become suspicious, but the outlandish stories she was concocting to stall Vera were baffling the prison officer more and more. Martha remembered turning to grin at her mother and her mother putting down her knitting because she needed to wipe away tears of laughter. She could remember the colour of the wool, her father and the boys - as everyone, including Mac, referred to her bros - chopping something and calling to each other out back, Prince's breath tickling her lap, the smell of the delicious stew they'd eaten for supper. It was one of those moments when nothing happens and yet stays forever in our mind, some magic touches and years later reels us back like an invisible thread. Perhaps it's pure happiness captured and bottled for all time.

"I can't." Martha ignored the high-five to ruefully rub her painful shoulder, a smile that hadn't been invited and had no business to be there hovering at the corner of her lips. "_Prisoner_ was a pretty good TV show. I used to watch it with Mum sometimes. She was hooked. I guess your Mum was too?"

"Nah. Ma didn't really do television." He shifted uncomfortably and seemed keen to change the subject. "What were you thinking about just then? You were miles away. I take it I'm...uh...allowed to ask?" He grinned again and raised his arms in mock surrender.

"Nothing much. Just the Farm where I used to live. My family. Prince, my dog. _Prince!" _She smiled fondly. "I got him for my birthday. He didn't have to work like dogs on a farm do, like our border collies did, he was there to be a pampered pooch and, Jeez, didn't he know it! Used to go round with his nose in the air like he was Royalty. My bros reckoned he was doing it on purpose, rubbing the other dogs' noses in it kind of thing. You should've seen the collies' faces whenever he walked past. You just knew if they hadn't been so well trained, they'd have soon put him in his place! Did you ever have a dog when you were a kid?"

"Yeh. Well, my Dad did. Two."

"What kind of dogs? What were their names?" Martha loved animals and immediately wanted to know more.

"Rottweilers. Brutus and Caesar. Dad bought them as guard dogs."

"Wow!" Mac was hugely impressed. "I bet nobody gave you a hard time with pets like that."

He snorted. "What kind of -- fluffy bunny planet d'you live on? I just told ya, they were -- _guard_ dogs!"

Martha bristled. "Does it hurt you, Kane? I mean, does it actually physically HURT you to talk to anyone female civilly? How'd you like it if someone spoke to your Mum like that?"

He looked shaken. "Sorry," he muttered after a long pause, for the first time ever since she'd known him seeming genuinely ashamed of himself. Even when he'd backed down earlier it had been simply because he found the whole thing funny.

"It's okay," she said, dropping the anger from her voice, slightly appeased.

"Did you ever listen to the rain when you were a kid, Mac?" He spoke in the same uncharacteristic pensive tone she'd never heard him use before. "I mean, _really, really _listen? I don't mean when you were snug in bed and it was hitting the windows, I mean...ahh, it don't matter!" He broke off suddenly to rise and brush imaginary dust from his trousers and walked away to stare out at the sea and the storm playing out beyond.

_It sounds as though the whole world is weeping. It sounds as though the wind is screaming in despair. The black clouds of late evening are floating over the horizon, coming home to cloak the night. A steady flow of water runs along the guttering, dripping monotonously down the chipped, rusty pipe where it spills into the muddy, overgrown sprawling front garden of the detached and dilapidated old house. The rain isn't heavy yet, but soon it will be and it's cold enough already on thin, sodden clothes covering small, thin, sodden bodies. For the world, the warm world, is far away and it's lonely out here in the ever-falling darkness. Traffic swishes past, a TV blares out a football game, drunken voices shout through the distance of night._  
Gritting her teeth against the agonizing pain of each movement, Martha finally managed to struggle to her feet and limped across to where he stood.

And the dogs bark.

They bark a warning to two frightened, hungry, pathetic little boys stealing pitifully towards the light of the window.

"It's no go! Even if that door's locked they're ready to break it down," Scott Phillips tells his younger brother, jumping back as the barks turn to growls and the two enormous animals snarl ferociously, eyes red and wild, large, sharp canine teeth bared, leaping up and pounding the glass with massive paws, determined to keep out intruders. Inside they are warm. Cosseted, well fed, given the best steak, the freedom to sleep on soft, comfortable chairs. Nothing asked in return save that they protect Richie "Gus" Phillips' latest drugs haul and let nobody inside while he's out drinking. Not even his own kids and no matter how bad the night.

"Maybe Ma...?" Kane suggests hopefully, keeping a wary eye on the frantic Rottweilers, and trembling at the knowledge only glass separates them from being torn to pieces.

"-- that, ya jerk, she'll still be out cold after the bloody bashing she took tonight," Scott says dismissively.

His little brother looks up at the bedroom window. It had started the way it usually started with Dad shouting, swearing and insulting her. This time Ma had been putting out supper. Dad always had his supper first and if they were lucky Mum, Kane and Scotty might get to have something later. But tonight Dad wasn't happy with the food. Something was burned or undercooked or too tough or too chewy. It didn't matter what it was though because he never seemed to need an excuse for laying into her.

Kane and Scotty looked warily up from the muted TV because his voice was rising and crept as one to peer round the kitchen door in time to see their father in the act of pressing their mother's face into the dish of food. Things happened really fast then. Drunk and cursing, he dragged her past them while Mum was yelling frantically "Get out! Get out!" to him and Scott because often they would be the next victims of his violence. And so they ran out although she was screaming and the night was cold and wild and they knew Dad must have a new stash because when the screaming finally stopped and just before he left the dogs were unchained from out back and put in the front room.

"Nah, it's shoppin' at -- 'Arrods again for dinner, innit?" Scotty adds with ironic humour.

And so, sick with hunger, bellies aching, the two young brothers trudge through the cold rain to the garbage bin to forage for left-over food scraps. Perhaps in that miserable, lonely night if there had been puppies left whining and shivering someone might have alerted an animal rescue centre. But incredibly people could and would and did pass children by. A group, a rowdy group, eight or more, men and women talking, laughing, swaying, they passed by so close they MUST have seen the two kids, they MUST have wondered at them tumbling garbage out of the trash cans...and if the kids had been cute puppies or fluffy kittens would...or if they hadn't been so drunk would...or if Kane or Scott had run to them for help would...Or had the whole world simply spun on its head and forgotten to tell two small boys it just didn't care?

"It does matter," she said gently, strangely moved. "If it means this much to you, it _does_ matter."

He didn't seem to hear her. Not until she placed her hand on his shoulder and then he jumped as if suddenly aware of where he was again. A flicker of a smile crossed his face and she smiled tentatively back as her brown eyes met his blue ones. Perhaps it was only the sound of the sea or her mind playing games, perhaps it was only the cry of gulls or a playful breeze, but for a moment it sounded as though she could hear Chantal Kreviazuk's song being carried across the water...

_There's something in your eyes  
Makes me wanna lose myself  
Makes me wanna lose myself in your heart..._


	30. Chapter 30

**Thanks for your lovely reviews, Lilartsie, they made my day. :))) I've sold some stories but not a lot.**

**CHAPTER 30**

**__****written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **

__

**WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN?**

Long as I remember the rain been comin' down  
clouds of mystery pourin' confusion on the ground  
good men through the ages tryin' to find the sun  
and I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?

©John Fogerty/Credence Clearwater Revival

Irene impatiently wiped away the tears with the heel of her hand. For a moment she looked sadly down into the gas fire that reflected its flickering light on her face and drew a deep breath before she spoke.

"My family were wiped out in a car crash. My mother Evelyn. Jeff, my stepdad. My little brother, my two little sisters...and Benji...my brother, Benji...he hanged...he hanged himself when he heard." She passed her hand across her face before she continued in the same dull voice only the broken-hearted know. "I have twins sisters. Katie and Jill. Their Dad took them to San Francisco when they were kids, for a holiday, he said, but he never brought them back. I had a family and then they were all gone. Mum, Jeff, Benji, Christabel, Ruthie, Terry... all of them gone. There was only me and the twins left out of us all and I didn't even know where they were. After the crash, my two best friends, Didi and Sadie, tried every which way they knew how to help me trace them but every single trail ran cold. Every single one. There was no one left. No one at all. I began drinking to blot out the pain."

Teardrops coursed down her cheeks again. Silently. Over the years Irene had perfected the art of crying noiselessly. Silent tears when no one knew soaking her pillow night after night for all that could have been and never was.

No one but Irene to remember how Christabel insisted on her frizzy red hair being tied in two long bunches with her favourite green ribbons and how much she loved those black patent leather sandals with the flower pattern. No one but Irene to recall how Terry loved to build and had tried to make his own bicycle with scraps of bikes that he found or that when Benji got a new song in his head he would often sleepwalk half singing, half muttering the words and wake the whole house. No one but Irene to tell how Ruthie, who hated sums, had wept the night before a class math test and next day raced all the way home and couldn't catch her breath, making her frantic mother think something terrible had happened, until Ruthie finally managed to pant she'd come first out of the whole class, and of how Evelyn McFarlane had immediately fetched the "emergency house money" envelope and sent out for cakes, crisps and lemonade to celebrate. And did the twins, somewhere in San Francisco, somewhere in the world, ever talk of the funny things they did when they were very small, the time they tried to clean the carpet with toothpaste or the time they had found a dead bug in the garden and put it in a matchbox coffin, burying it in the shallow grave they dug with teaspoons and marked with popsicle sticks? Or had they been far too young to remember or were they far too grown-up now to care?  
Irene sighed again. She had told few people of her tragic past. Counsellors, psychologists, doctors, they were told...because they said they needed to know to help her through.

But telling them never brought her family back.

The day she walked away from herself and her life as a student nurse she made a promise she would burden no one. She drifted from place to place, lived in rundown apartments, found employment where no one asked questions, what little was left of her wages inevitably being spent on drink. Frequently she changed her name and her appearance, frequently she was fired for being drunk. From time to time and unrecognisable, she caught a train to the little grey town she had grown up in and walked along the pebbly beach by night, by velvet night, when darkness covered tears, by lonely night when waves muffled sobs, by cold night when all was lost.

Yet somewhere along the road of life she fell in love, or thought she did, she married, took her husband's surname, settled down, or thought she had. The love of drink was stronger. The marriage crumbled and for several years she drifted as before.

When she stepped off the bus in Summer Bay the sun was just rising, stretching golden fingers towards an azure sky. She saw it as a sign of hope. She had battled against the booze, been clean now for almost twenty months, saved hard for this vacation. Her fellow travellers, dusty and exhausted after the long journey, were making their way up the hotel steps, the remaining passengers, bound for the caravan site, sleeping or soothing tired children. But she set down her luggage and watched the sun welcome the morning, fascinated that the world could ever be so beautiful when it had taken so much away.

"Planning to stay here forever then, love?" The coach driver laughed and she smiled back, picked up the bags and ran up the hotel steps after her companions.

But his words proved prophetic. She never left Summer Bay. Something touched her heart, some whisper, some magic, some angel's prayer, call it what you will, and kept her in its embrace. Here at last she found a home, a job, friends, a sense she belonged. And she had stayed true to her promise. Save for one person. The day before Hayley's birthday party she told Gypsy.

Gypsy, who reminded her so much of herself, who sat with her and clasped her hands in her own with tears falling from her beautiful green eyes as she listened, while Evelyn McFarlane's battered little carriage clock, once so shiny and new, together with an oil painting of wild horses running free, two pretty pink lamps and a pink vase spilling over with fresh flowers, the first things Evelyn ever bought when she moved proudly into the bigger house she'd finally been allocated, realising too late she had no money left for groceries.

And so the McFarlanes had had to eat jam on toast for three days while the flowers bloomed, the lamps shone brightly on the painting and the clock ticked on. Years passed by. Flowers died, the vase got broken, the lamps were sold to a second-hand shop to buy shoes for the youngest, the oil painting was demanded by a neighbour, under threat of calling the police, to recompense for the McFarlane kids breaking a window and trampling all over her garden. But still the little clock ticked away every moment, days and nights and games and squabbles, voices and tears and laughter and the hum of the second-hand sewing-machine Evelyn painstakingly tried to teach herself to use, and the clack of knitting needles that produced clumsily-made woollen garments for her brood.  
Gypsy, sworn to secrecy. They understood each other. Both eschewed self-pity and battled against the world as best they knew how. Gypsy, as hell bent on self-destruction as Irene had once been. Hoping reaching out and telling Gypsy would pull her back before it was too late from the edge of the abyss Gypsy seemed determined to hurl herself down.

She gulped back the tears and looked up into her companion's weatherbeaten face. "I'm sorry, Barry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart like this."

He said nothing. There was no need for words. So much was said in the tender stroking of her tears, in the warmth of his strong arms. And in the comfort of his body, close to his heartbeat, her tears fell afresh like a cleansing spring rain.

"I'd been so happy that day. I didn't know..." Her voice buried itself in a sob.

"It's alright now, Irene. It's alright," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, letting her tears soak through to his chest, his heart breaking for her. "Don't bottle it all up inside anymore. Tell me. I'll listen."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

People were often surprised when they heard Didi Watts was training to be a nurse. Although she had an IQ of 125, with her silky long blonde hair, slim, perfect figure, full lips, blue eyes and flawless skin, many for some reason imagined beauty and intelligence couldn't mix and she was often perceived to be stupid. Once, on one of her days off as she passed by a cheap club, a straggly-haired, pot-bellied gorilla of a man had pressed a flyer advertising for lap dancers into her hand and told her _"Don't think ya gotta be bright to make yer fortune in the smoke, darlin'. We get some top notch customers here who tip well." _

Sadie Hepplethwaite, a blunt, down-to-earth, talkative girl addicted to diet coke and chocolate, as round and curvy as Didi was petite, was always in trouble for spending far too long stopping by to chat to patients and not enough time making beds and emptying bed pans. Together with pretty, just-turned-twenty-one-year old Irene McFarlane, the eldest of the trio, that early Saturday morning they were weaving their way through the bus station rattling _"Kidney Machine Appeal"_ collecting buckets at the sea of human traffic passing by.

All three had begun their student nurse training on the same day at a tough inner city hospital and all three had bonded the moment a retired doctor, the plump and pompous Dr Stanley Bancroft, an expert in the field of heart surgery and infamous for his controversial and oft-quoted view _"men made the best doctors, women the best carers" _was in the middle of giving a patronizing talk to his mainly female audience when his trousers fell down round his ankles, revealing peculiarly old-fashioned undergarments. The initial river of giggles turned into an almost deathly hush as the great Dr Bancroft pulled up his pants and made an indirect threat of how he feared certain people would not last the course. He glared in particular at the three students who dared break the silence. Didi, with her hyena giggles, Sadie, with her raucous laugh, and Irene, with her own hearty, infectious laughter, had marked themselves out from then on and made an enemy of Sister Moira "The Dragon of Darkness" Brown, who was a great-great-niece of Dr Bancroft's and overawed by her distinguished relative.  
After a while, finding student nurse accommodation too restrictive, the three had opted to share a large, dilapidated terraced house with two other nurses and although they struggled on five student grants (when Evelyn baked and posted a 21st cake for her daughter the rich fruit cake was served up for supper with a disgustingly weak powdered custard mixed with milk and water, there being little else left in the larder) they thoroughly enjoyed the freedom of nobody checking what time they got in and (more importantly) who they brought back.

It was a happy, busy, crazy time: boyfriends, dancing, drinking, cramming for exams, arguing over who's turn it was to clean the bathroom, catching a movie, downing one too many bottles of wine with heart-to-heart chats late into the night. Occasionally they managed to boost their income and have a cheap night out too down at the grimy, smoky pub on the corner of their long, winding street where the greasy, sleazy landlord, having accidentally discovered Irene had a talent for country and western when he overheard her singing, paid her in cash or in free drinks for herself and her friends all night if she sang a few songs. But even this and their combined efforts of trying, mostly in vain, to fit part-time jobs around anti-social hours, study and sleep, wasn't enough and when the rent went up yet again lack of money drove them reluctantly back to the Nurses' Home. With exams becoming more intense and their increasing experience meaning more responsibility at the hospital, volunteering to collect for charity was a chance for a break. But they had barely begun when the first trickle of rain fell, dripping down off the edges of the bus station roof and perversely through any other little gaps it could find.

Irene looked worriedly up at the overcast sky, praying it wouldn't last and annoyed the TV weather forecast could have got it so spectacularly wrong. The TV had said it would be a bright, beautiful summer's day, she'd watched specially because she knew Mum and her stepdad Jeff were taking her younger brother and sisters on their first ever holiday today. Last time she'd managed to get home on a long weekend the kids had talked of nothing else.

The change in the weather seemed to have made people gloomy. They were too busy hurrying to and fro to take much notice of the three young nurses and only a few coins lay in the bucket. At his rate, they would be going back with hardly anything, Irene thought despondently. A sudden dig in the ribs woke her from her reverie.

Sadie was standing beside her grinning. The three of them had half planned this. Any excuse to liven things up. "Reckon they need a song or two, kiddo?"

"Because we reckon they do!" With a mischievous glint in her blue eyes, Didi was already tumbling her long blonde hair down out of its nurse's cap and shaking it loose over her shoulders.

"You got it, guys!" Irene grinned back.

She immediately knew what they were hinting at. A nostalgic trip down to their former local a couple of weeks back had resulted in a drunken, rowdy, dancing-on-the-tables session that had had _The Travellers Rest _bursting at the seams. With nothing but her strong voice to carry the tune, Irene set the bucket down before her and, with Sadie and Didi hitching up their uniforms and twirling their nursing capes round in a random dance, sang the same song that had been the start of the night that saw police visits, a gang fight and hastily appointed bouncers being posted on the doors:

_"Come and look out through the window  
that big ol' moon is shining downtell me now, don't it remind you  
of the blanket on the ground"_

It worked even better than they hoped. By the time they reached their fourth or fifth song with no sign of flagging, an enthusiastic crowd had forgotten all about timetables and appointments to clap, dance and sing along while an enterprising derro with a small, scruffy dog sat in a corner where he happily strummed on a home-made cardboard guitar that played no tune, the dog wagging its tail whenever the occasional coin landed (or almost landed) in the proffered cap beside them.

The promised golden sun had chased away the small black clouds and the collection buckets were filling rapidly with dollar bills and high value coins when a dark blue van, gleaming in its afternoon light, pulled up and, flanked by two grim-faced police officers, a man and a woman, The Dragon of Darkness herself appeared _"as though in a puff of smoke", _Didi, who was responsible for the nickname and who maintained Sister Brown had made a pact with the Devil who gave her the ability to materialize out of thin air, muttered under her breath.

"Nurse McFarlane...Irene..." Sister Brown seemed uncharacteristically subdued as she took Irene's elbow. "Could you come with us please?"

Sadie swore and Did grabbed Irene's arm as though to prevent her being led away. The audience jeered. The small, scruffy dog rose and shook himself, panting heavily as though preparing for a showdown.

"Leave them alone, you b--ds!" A man yelled, similar cries of protest immediately being taken up by the angry crowd.

Irene herself however was stunned into silence. Sister Moira Brown was a large woman with a thick Scottish accent and nothing fazed her. Last week a gunshot victim with an almost perfectly formed round bullet hole in his head had been brought into the hospital and the Dragon of Darkness hardly batted an eyelid when the patient's brother, brandishing a steak knife, burst into the treatment area and threatened to slash her throat if the patient didn't pull through, simply telling the terrified young male orderly to snap out of it and fetch security.

Drunken patients, drug addicts, old ladies with paper thin skin, mothers-to-be, millionaires and paupers, Sister Brown dealt with everyone in the same brisk and efficient but startlingly abrupt manner. Yet she seemed a shadow of her former self. And strangely, the suited bus station official, who'd earlier only asked the girls to make sure they stayed where they were and thus avoided interfering with the flow of traffic, now looked extremely concerned.

"Nurse Hepplethwaite, Nurse Watts...we'll need you with us." Sister Brown's tone was almost pleading and Didi and Sadie exchanged baffled glances.

Irene's mind raced in confusion. She knew Sister Brown was married with a grown-up son. She had met Gavin once. He was a tall, good-looking man who had _"fortunately inherited all his Dad's genes and none of his Mum's"_ as she later told Sadie and Didi. Her heart fluttered and her face flushed when he spoke in that half Australian, half Scottish lilt, gazing at her with those grey eyes and smiling that crinkly smile. Nothing came of it, Gavin was engaged to be married and at least ten years older, but she clearly remembered the filthy look The Dragon of Darkness shot her way, and at that moment all she could think was perhaps something had happened to Gavin and for some reason Sister Brown particularly wanted to confide in Irene.  
The surrealism continued. The suited official led them behind the ticket office area, down a white corridor, stopping only once, and briefly, to consult in whispers with a girl who was perhaps a PA, and who looked far older than the years her young face belied with her hair tied back too severely and her business-like jacket and skirt, and who whispered in return, nodded gravely and gave Irene a look she couldn't fathom before hurrying away. The official opened the door to a comfortable room furnished with cushioned easy chairs and coffee tables, one bearing a teapot, jug of milk and bowl of crystal sugar lumps all set out on a tray next to delicate china cups resting on delicate china saucers, as if they were all expected to sit down to tea.

The window, flung wide open to let in the sun-kissed air, showed a small mosaic-tiled courtyard , where colourful flowering plants, loved and nurtured, trailed merrily over the edges of fat, round tubs and the hot sun sparkled on the tiles as though a tiny piece of Italy had flown away from its homeland and landed in the congested city to bring harmony to the background noise of thundering traffic. Amid the oasis of calm, a bird was singing. She remembered this much.

But she didn't remember how they broke the news of her family's deaths.

She couldn't take in the words because somebody was screaming. Oh, God, those screams! Those terrible, terrible screams that flowed icily through her body and gripped her heart. Somebody was yelling it wasn't true, it couldn't be true. They said it over and over and over. They said it when she was falling, falling, falling into a blackness. They said it when, refusing to be seated, her knees buckled and her friends at either side caught her. And still someone was screaming those blood-curdling screams.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She was shaking uncontrollably now. Every pent-up emotion unleashed

At last she fell against his chest, exhausted. "Why, Barry, why? Why did it have to happen? Why, when they had so much to live for?"

Outside the storm seemed to rage more wildly than before, rain lashing against the window faster, faster, ever faster. Oh, but inside this room, inside this room the battered old carriage clock ticked steadily on, inside this quiet room her tears were all cried out as he held her tightly to his chest and inside the shelter of his arms.

_Blanket on the Ground © Billie Jo Spears_


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

_**BAD MOON RISING**_

_I see a bad moon arising  
I see trouble on the way..._

_©John Fogerty/Credence Clearwater Revival _

"Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, brief as the lightning in the collied night!"

Kim Hyde, only son of widower and principal of Summer Bay High, Barry Hyde, had been lost in thoughts of how he could win back Hayley Smith and he jumped sky high as a disembodied voice seemingly auditioning for a part on some ghostly stage floated from the direction of haunted Whitelady Copse. He breathed again however as Megan Ashcroft emerged shortly after it, hair bedraggled, clothes soaking.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you - again," she said apologetically.

It was the second time that night she had made him jump. He'd been beating himself up then over Hayley catching him in bed with Gypsy Nash and Megan had warned him he was wasting his time worrying about her. Her advice had obviously fallen on deaf ears. For reasons best known to himself, Kim was clearly still carrying a torch for Hayley Smith even though neither Gypsy nor Hayley were in the slightest bit interested in him and were simply using him to get back at each other.

Megan had begun working her way gingerly through the mud around the side of the long abandoned restaurant towards him and she wasn't too surprised when Kim, ever the gentleman, immediately left the almost cosy shelter of the restaurant's doorway to plough his way through the deep mud and heavy rain to help her.

"Thanks." She smiled warmly as they reached the top.

Apart from her Tony, the guy she had been in love with from the moment they'd met, Kim was the most sensitive soul she knew. He was at one with nature, incapable of hurting anyone or anything. But Kim didn't see his own inner beauty. He was convinced that to be loved he had to be clever and he constantly laboured - inevitably with disappointing results - over his schoolwork desperate to please his father.

Kim never once saw the beautiful person he was inside or ever thought that he mattered. Despite his muscular frame, floppy blonde hair and gentle blue eyes, he never considered himself remotely good looking either and when he overheard that the girls at Summer Bay High had nicknamed him The Greek God he was convinced they were laughing at him and his head went down further and he thrust his hands deeper into his pockets as he blushed and shuffled away in embarrassment.

"The words just seemed to fit," Megan explained matter-of-factly. "Beautiful, aren't they? And it's such a beautiful night." She stomped the mud off her shoes on the wide stone step and removed her wide-brimmed hat to shake off the raindrops as though she'd been caught in nothing more than a light shower.

"Are you serious?"

Kim had to shout to make himself heard above the roar of thunder that chose to hit at that precise moment and he looked up in disbelief at the torrential rain and the lightning flash that furiously followed to tear the sky apart.

"Look beyond what you see, Kim. Nothing is as it seems."

Baffled, he brought his gaze back down to Megan's. She smiled fleetingly, gazing steadily into his eyes as she replaced the hat. She had an elfin-shaped, homely face and a shock of long, frizzy red hair that now seemed almost witch-like drenched as it was by the rain and yet she was very pretty in a startling kind of way. It was her eyes that held all the beauty. Framed by long, silky lashes, they were different colours, one brown, one green, but sometimes they seemed a colour all of their own and deep and mysterious as any ocean.

"Nothing is as it seems," Megan repeated, shaking her head sadly as if she and the night, and only the night, shared some terrible secret neither must ever tell.

Megan was strange...no, not strange...he searched his mind for a word to suit and a horror movie he'd once watched rushed helpfully back to memory to supply an answer - otherworldly. _Otherworldly! That _was it! Megan often spoke in riddles like the reincarnated girl in the movie and her terrified teacher had said she was otherworldly. Or...hang on...had the terrified teacher said she was other _wordly...? _

"Isn't it?" He asked uncertainly.

Kim Hyde never knew how to respond to topics that seemed to require great intellectual debate and he faltered clumsily over even the two small words like a young child stumbling over his two times table. He knew he wasn't bright. His father had told him so often enough. His father had told him many things.

Like never show your feelings.

Well, okay, he could maybe understand that. He was heaps more emotional than most guys his age and had been even more emotional when he was a kid. When he was nine or ten, his favourite TV show, the one about the injured animals that were rescued and taken to the animal hospital always made him cry, with sympathy when creatures were hurt, with happiness if the vets saved them. Girly stuff, his mates would have said - if they'd known, that is. Kim was careful to keep his "weakness" secret because even in an enlightened age it wasn't considered cool for guys to cry. Fact was though, kids cried. His mates cried although, like Kim, they pretended they didn't. Jacko cried in anger and frustration when he broke his ankle and lost his place in the footie team and Mikey cried for days afterwards when his dog was knocked down by a car then furiously denied that he had cried at all when reminded of it some months later. Kim was pretty damn sure though that none of his mates had to sneak the TV on while listening guiltily out for their father's footsteps, tightly clutching the remote in case they had to quickly switch to another channel, feeling like they'd let everybody down if even a single tear coursed down their face.

Ever since he could remember he and his Dad had moved from state to state and from town to town, never settling anywhere. But they'd stayed in Summer Bay longer than anywhere else. Maybe Barry Hyde had finally found the elusive happiness he was searching for in Summer Bay with Irene Roberts. Kim hoped so. Because he'd already made up his mind if his father moved on again it would be without him. He was almost eighteen now. Old enough to make his way in the world on his own. There was no point in them pretending any more.

All his life Kim had felt as though there were some invisible barrier between himself and his father. He was obviously still heartbroken over his wife Kerry's sudden death, for she had died a few weeks after Kim was born and he rarely spoke of her. It couldn't have helped matters either that his son was stupid. His parents had probably dreamed of him becoming a lawyer or an architect or perhaps even prime minister but Kim would be lucky to scrape through his exams at even the lowest grades.

His older brother Jonathan might have done them proud if only he'd lived, Kim often speculated, gazing into those blue eyes so like his own. Jonathan was one of the two little kids in the two circular photo frames (Kim being the other) that sat at either side of the mantelshelf under the star-shaped wall clock (an _"exceptional award for excellence" _given to Barry Hyde by his very impressed TAFE college). The photograph was taken when he was only five days old and Kim thought even then Jonathan looked far more alert than the picture of himself taken at the same age. Kim, dim-witted Kim, who was good at swimming and nothing else at all. Small wonder he was such a huge disappointment to his clever and successful father.

Yet Barry Hyde was never cruel to his son and growing up Kim wanted for nothing. There were presents and treats, new toys and new clothes, holidays and day trips, a generous pocket money allowance and a savings account that was regularly topped up. But Kim yearned for the bond he saw other kids shared with their Dads. No matter how well he played at footie, for instance, never once did Barry Hyde roar his encouragement or thump him proudly on the back after the game like Jacko's Dad did with Jacko.

But he felt the difference most down on the beach. Other kids' olds always seemed to be digging in the sand with their kids or took their costumes and swam in the sea with them. Kim's father took a stopwatch and berated him if he didn't swim fast enough to beat his last record. Swimming was the only thing he did well. He could move through the water with the speed of a fish. What Barry Hyde didn't know was, he swam well because with every stroke he pounded the water with all the anger and hurt of not being good enough to be loved.

Kim bit his lip to halt the easy tears and swallowed a lump in his throat. It was all in the past now and none of this was Megan's fault. He faked a smile.

"You look cute when you smile and frown at the same time," she said.

Any other chick and he might have thought she was coming on to him. Not Megan though. Megan spoke her mind to anyone and everyone and anyway Megan and Tony Lombardi, the half-Italian student with the incredible talent for music, currently away at a summer school music academy, were madly in love and always had been. And although she spoke gently and he knew she wasn't mocking his natural shyness made him flush.  
"Yeh, well, just trying to figure out what the hell you're waffling on about," he blustered, trying hard to sound macho but feeling like sounding macho was all wrong and only about insulting other people. "What's with all the swift as shadows stuff? You writing a poem?"

She laughed. "I wish! Shakespeare. You remember, we studied it last term? _A Midsummer Night's Dream_," she added when still he looked blank.

"Right." Kim nodded, trying to look wise while his anxious eyes said it all made as much sense to him as rocket science explained in Mandarin Chinese.

Megan grinned self-deprecatingly, determined not to make him feel any worse than he obviously already did. "I still dunno what it all means though. I think...don't quote me...it's something to do with how fast life and love flies by. I guess what I'm trying to say - in a show-offy kind of way - is you know how I get feelings about stuff?"

He nodded. Megan was known in Summer Bay High for her predictions. Last term she'd told a classmate, Dionne, that she'd have a new baby brother before the year ended and Dionne laughed till she cried and said _nooo waaay _(she was sixteen, the youngest of four and her Mum and Dad definitely didn't plan on having any more kids) but nine months later on New Year's Eve, exactly three minutes before midnight, little George had been born. Another time she predicted NOBODY in Summer Bay High would turn up for school for the first two days of the winter term and, sure enough, a week before its reopening, a major leak was discovered in the roof and the first two days of term were cancelled while emergency maintenance was carried out. Students were always trying to get her to tell their fortunes, but Megan said it didn't work that way, she only wished it did. She had to wait for messages to come through to her not the other way round.

Megan gave a small sigh, uncharacteristically perplexed at where to begin. She had always liked Kim though not in a romantic way. Nobody could _not_ like Kim, he was a nice guy, quiet and unassuming. But ever since his father had been come to Summer Bay High she had wondered at the tightly closed secret Barry Hyde kept. The first time she saw the newly appointed principal she had had an overwhelming sensation that she was all alone staring into a black-clouded sky but tonight it was as if the gathered thunderclouds had been broken open. A round full moon momentarily tinged the scene before slipping back into the shadows of the night but for the brief while the moon shone a hazy image had come into her mind like some ethereal dream she couldn't quite capture by morning. It was why she'd gone to Whitelady Copse. Somehow she could think more clearly when alone among the old trees that for eighty years or more had watched from their lonely hill as tides ebbed and flowed, as people lived and loved and a timeless sun slept and woke anew.

"Kim, your Dad never meant to hurt you," she said quietly. "He only ever wanted to protect you. He needs you so much."

He looked at her eagerly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "My Dad! Meg, what else can you see? Why does he...why is he how he is?"

But Megan could only shrug helplessly.

"I'm sorry, Kim. It's all I can tell you."  
"Please, Meg, there _must_ be more. Please try! Why does he hate me?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't hate you, Kim," she whispered. "You mustn't ever think that. He loves you deeply. And right now he needs you more than he ever needed you before."

"There's nothing more?"

"There's nothing more I can tell you."

It was a white lie because she couldn't tell him the truth. That must come from Barry Hyde himself. And now that she knew the truth, what must she do with it? And did it mean something more? Kim was somehow inextricably tied with the death she knew would come tonight but she didn't know how or when and she couldn't alter fate. Her Gran had told her in her quaint old-fashioned way when she told Megan she had inherited the gift of second sight that soothsayers were the messengers of time and nothing more.

He ran his fingers through his hair, raindrops and tears glistening on his face. "Well, I was headed home anyway," he said at last. "This lousy party's over for me. I've had it with being a loser."

She touched his arm reassuringly. Somehow she knew he would not make it home. For some reason he would stop by the Diner where he would meet his father and be told something that would change his life forever. "You're not a loser, Kim. You never have been. And your Dad loves you. Whatever happens, always, always remember that. He loves you."

In the distance music boomed out from the party house. In their world, all time had stopped. They were both crying now and neither could have told the other why. Something must happen this stormy night. They both sensed it. On an impulse, Megan suddenly hugged him and with a shy smile and after a slight hesitation he returned the hug. He spoke no more but turned and walked away.

She watched until he was swallowed by the night and then she sank sadly down into the corner of the abandoned restaurant doorway, closed her eyes and listened to the rain pouring relentlessly down through the branches of the gnarled old trees that creaked in weary protest at the ravages of time. And gradually, as it had done before, the music of the rain faded away to be replaced by the lonely mourning of the wind and the cold scraping of metal against the quiet earth and she saw again the silhouette of a man. And came as always the brief flash of moonlight silver on the spade and pale on the troubled face of Barry Hyde. Then fell once more the deathly silence and shroud of blackness.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

**CRAZY CASSIE**

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

_I hate when he knocks on the door. I hate that sound, that silly tap-tap-tap like he's asking a question. It makes me go ice cold and I get that tight little knot in my stomach. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I HATE IT._

"Oh, for God's sake, what's the matter NOW?"

Hayley's voice cut harshly into Cassie's thoughts and she realised she was rocking herself again. It was something she always did when something upset her. It helped her to relax but the downside was the memories always came flooding back. Wrapping her arms around herself and rocking herself to and fro reassured her but it was always embarrassing when someone noticed. See, no matter how bad things got, they could never be as bad as they used to be. Could they?

"Nothing," Cassie muttered.

Hayley regarded with contempt. "Well, stop it then, you fruit basket. Either that or phone the loonie bin right now and save us all the bother."

Cassie flinched. "Has nothing ever hurt you, Hayley? Has NOTHING ever hurt you in your perfect little life? You know what I'd give for my only worry to be if my nail varnish matched my outfit or if Daddy would give me a few extra dollars allowance? You know what I'd give?"

Hayley stared at her, speechless. She'd never known Cassie so vehement before. Cassie had seemed incapable of getting mad with at anyone. It just wasn't in her.

"I'm sorry." Cassie clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, as if suddenly realising that fact herself.

"So you should be." Hayley wrinkled her delicate nose and looked her up and down with contempt and Cassie cringed. What was she thinking, yelling at poor Hayley like that?

"I didn't mean it," she said apologetically, horrified with herself. How could she have been such a bitch? "Honest, I didn't mean it, Hayles."

Hayley sniffed. "You're a nasty cow, Cassie Turner. After everything I've just been through with Kane Phillips and you talk to me like that."

"I know." Cassie hung her head, full of remorse. It was awful what happened to us..."

"It doesn't matter with you," Hayley cut in spitefully. "You dress like a slut and you act like a slut so you're used to that kind of thing. I'm not."

That hurt so much. Hayley wasn't to know but it still hurt so much. Cassie bit back the tears that sprang to her eyes and to better fight them looked around at the little guest room. Oh, God, no, not again! She was hoping she might be okay this time but through the misty tears she could see the walls closing in. She tried to be logical, to tell herself it wasn't happening, but her heart was hammering. It was stupid, she knew it was, but she couldn't help it...She hurried shakily towards the door and released the lock.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Hayley raced after her and banged the door shut again, pressing her back determinedly against it.

"I thought...I didn't think...you don't need me here...I'm...I'm upsetting you." Cassie's head was already spinning and Hayley was confusing her all the more.

"You think I'm going to let a bunny boiler like you wander round on your own? How do I know you're not going to attack someone with a knife?"

"I wouldn't!" Cassie tried to sidestep but Hayley was quicker and blocked her way.

"How do I know you wouldn't? You're not going anywhere!"

"I have to get out. Hayley, I can't breathe." Cassie felt the familiar tightness grip her chest and could hear her blood thundering in her ears. "I'm claustrophobic."

Hayley snorted. "Jerk! What about the time you hid in the store room for an hour all because you had a blue in the school caff? You're just being a big drama queen. Centre of attention. As usual."

"I am. It's because...it doesn't matter." Cassie gulped.

Anyway, what was the point of telling Hayley the reason was, at her last school Amy Simpson and Gemma Hill's merciless bullying had culminated in them sneaking up behind her and locking her in the cramped, airless cleaning cupboard? What was the point of telling Hayley that after fifteen minutes of Cassie's frantic shouting and banging, they'd suddenly flung open the door and when she fell out Gemma had laughingly taken a photo on her mobile phone? What was the point of telling Hayley how Cassie had sat with a bottle of tablets in the bathroom after a photo of her red-faced, wild-eyed and dishevelled had circulated the school's mobile phone to whispers of Crazy Cassie. Hayley wouldn't care. Hayley didn't care about anyone but herself.

After the cupboard, she never felt comfortable staying in any confined space after a while. It was incredible she had lasted so long here in the guest room but so much had gone on she hadn't had time to think about it.

"Hayley, I swear, I can't breathe..." Cassie's piped staccato voice sounded foreign even to her own ears.

Hayley's lips curled in derision. "Yeh, yeh. Like you're fooling anyone."

Cassie could bear it no longer. In a rush of terror, she pushed Hayley aside, yanked open the door and ran down the stairs as though her life depended on it. Her knees buckled just as she reached the bottom step and she sank down by the little window she and Kane Phillips had got in through earlier, for several minutes drinking in the night air in large thankful gulps until she began to feel calmer though her heart was still racing. She was vaguely aware that Hayley had followed her down but neither of them spoke until the door banged suddenly behind them. They both looked at it.

"I'm not going back in there," Cassie said.

"Well, you're not coming back into my party, dag."

"Fine."

To Hayley's fury, Crazy Cassie simply wriggled out of the window. There was a small gazebo above, for two hundred years ago the mansion's architect had been commissioned by his romantic employer to create a wooden window seat where sweethearts could sit outside and dream dreams away from prying eyes. It offered little protection from the storm-ridden night but it was shelter enough. Cassie rubbed her arms, shivering as she looked up at the lightning streaking across the sky. It would never be over, would it? He was dead now but it would never go away. She'd always be Crazy Cassie.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cassie Turner had just spread the rag rug and box of matches under the shade of the cherry tree, settled herself down and picked up the large Five-year Diary when a large shiny black beetle emerged from under it, seized its chance and hitched a lift on the back of her hand.

"Yeurgh! Gross!" She shrieked, leaping to her feet, dropping the thick book and shaking the creature back down to the ground, where it scurried off towards the tomato plants as if it had suddenly remembered a much more urgent appointment and its would-be transport could go take a hike. On her bloody own.

Cassie looked warily round to check no one had heard her. The Old Farm was so beautiful on that bright summer's day, washed as it had been by the early morning rain and full of joy and life. Birds called to one another and sunlight sparkled on still-wet leaves that rustled with the breeze telling its secrets. Rain-scented roses shook their pink heads, shimmying proudly in green-leaf dresses, and a pretty blue wren, startled by Cassie's sudden movement and scattering pink blossom down on her in its wake, flew off the branch of the cherry tree to soar towards a bright blue sky where dozens of pure white clouds were hurrying by on their way to see the world.

A world that was Cassie's to call her own.

The Old Farm was a half-hour car drive away from even its nearest neighbours. It had been built by Cassie's great-grandparents in 1925 (carved above the farmhouse door was the year and entwined hearts with their initials) as a self-sufficient smallholding where, as well as growing their own fruit and vegetables to be sold down at the local market, they had kept goats and hens. Cassie's grandmother with whom she lived no longer kept any farm animals and as Joy Turner suffered from bouts of arthritis the fruit and vegetable plots couldn't be tended as often as they once were, yielding only enough for their own consumption, but the two had been happy enough together.

Cassie had been ten-and-a-half years old when, only a few months after her father's unexpected death, her mother tragically drowned when she suffered an epileptic fit while in the bath and she had come to live with her maternal grandmother Joy Turner. Cassie's parents had never married and Cassie thought sharing the same surname as her Gran somehow made their relationship even more special. The Old Farm was remote and a great distance from the nearest primary school so Mrs Turner suggested home-schooling might be the best plan until Cassie was old enough to bus to high school. The education authorities were fortunately in agreement. Cassie could have danced for joy when she heard. She was a painfully shy child who found it difficult to make friends, self-conscious about the long limbs that made her gawky and awkward, forever dropping things or falling over and scraping elbows and knees. But during those twelve months living with her grandmother she blossomed.

The little girl loved everything about The Old Farm, as she and her Gran called it, never tiring of looking up at the entwined hearts and daydreaming about the romance of it all. No matter how many times her grandmother told her it was a hard life, that her parents had worked from dawn to dusk and even then barely managed to keep their heads above water, Cassandra Patricia Turner was a dreamer and always would be. And, after all, Joy Turner could hardly blame her.

_"Always with your head in the clouds, Cassie," _she would smile fondly, and with more than an ounce of truth, for Cassie loved gazing up into the sky and daydreaming. But Joy understood. Having been brought up in the shadow of the Second World War and the cinema's golden age, she herself had loved the escapism of Hollywood movies. Joy and Cassie were kindred spirits. Between them, cultivating the field, watching old movies, baking or knitting or sewing, they managed to console each other over the deaths that had left them both heartbroken.

It was several months after she had begun keeping a Five Year Diary and a few days before she was due to start high school that Cassie's Uncle Ben came home from the Army. Cassie was looking forward to meeting him. Joy Turner had been married and widowed twice and Ben was her son from her first marriage but he and Cassie's mother had never got on so Becky never visited when he was home on leave nor did he ever visit his half-sister.

Cassie picked up the Five Year Diary again. Because now it was over, finally, finally OVER - she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of freedom - she would live one last time with and console that past self. And so she riffled through the pages till at last she found it.

_I'm going to meet Uncle Ben at last!! No, I DON'T mean a jar of sweet and sour sauce!! _

Cassie stopped to wipe her eyes and smile sadly at the joke she'd found hysterically funny when she was only a child. She remembered giggling as she wrote it and popping another lolly into her mouth - she was working her way steadfastly through a mixed bag - and almost choking because she'd giggled so much and then giggling some more because Betsy the cat jumped down from her lap in annoyance and was staring at her in astonishment. How little Cassie knew then. How very little.

"He's dead, Cassie," she said aloud to reassure and left her words to ring out on the wind. And she squinted up at the azure pools of sky and the pure whiteness of the hurrying clouds for a moment before she read on.

_Gran got married and widowed twice and Uncle Ben is from her first mirage. Gran's always talking about him so I know heaps already. I've seen photos and he looks a bit like me. He's leaving the Army for good now and coming to live with us!! Betsy just jumped on my knee again and she's purring cos I'm scratching her ears. Gran finished knitting the teapot cosy. Rained a bit this morning. It's green and white. I brung the washing in for Gran._  
There were several blank pages now. Cassie's New Year Resolution, written on the first page in bold lettering, _Write in Dairy Every Day_ had soon fallen by the wayside - though the pedantic among us might argue it never began in the first place as Cassie had never set foot inside any dairy to write in anyway. A couple more dates bore her childlike scribble, inconsequential information: _Omelette for dinner; Gran is going to the dentist to get new denchewers; OMG the tulip seeds somehow got mixed up and now we have red and yellow petals on each flower!! _There was a sketch of Betsy next to a reminder about her next vet's appointment. A complaint about her nose being sunburnt and having too many freckles. And then came the first mention.

_He won't stop knocking on the door. He won't go away. I don't know what to do._

Cassie thin body shuddered with small gulping sobs and she rested her forehead against the cherry tree and put her fist in her mouth, biting down hard on her knuckles and whimpering softly. Knocks on the door had once meant something good. Knocks on the door had once meant the mailman and she'd fly down the stairs like a bat out of hell whenever she heard the happy rat-tat-tat.

Joy Turner, a tall, elegant lady with twinkling eyes and dimples in her cheeks, loved to make things - rag rugs, cross stitch pictures, crocheted doilies, anything and everything - but as she lived several hours away from the nearest stores she frequently had to send away for the means with which to make them. That, and the fact she was a sucker too for the latest gadgets meant the most interesting parcels would often be delivered. Once a dozen ornamental dolls had arrived and Joy happily knitted ten toilet roll holders (teaching her young granddaughter how to knit the other two). Cassie happily knitted away although for the life of her she couldn't understand why anybody would want to hide their toilet roll under the knitted skirt of an ornamental doll. Neither, it seemed, could anyone else. They kept two, gave four away to a church fete, one to the mailman, and the rest were stored in the attic with other items that had accumulated over the years.

Some were, like the hand-knitted, crocheted and embroidered, eventually despatched to various charity shops, others were declared hopeless cases too poor even for the very poor, and sentenced to sit out the rest of their days in their attic prison: a spider catcher too flimsy to catch any spiders; an alarm clock that infuriatingly spoke the exact time every five minutes; a satellite navigation system that no matter where it was programmed for determinedly took everybody to the same corner of Reynolds Lane; a pyramid jigsaw it was impossible to finish; a twenty-different-tunes door-bell (it kept getting stuck and playing the same tune for hours on end as did several replacements so Gran and Danny Byrne, the tousled-haired mailman, who was always as keen as Cassie to know what was inside the parcel, finally admitted defeat and went back to raps on the door). There was, it has to be said, the occasional success: Joy still carried the jar opener in her_ "super-duper multi-compartments you'll-never-be-without-what-you-need ever again giant leather handbag"_, which had come in useful once when a young mother at the next table in a café had been unable to open her young son's jar of baby food.

Cassie wiped her eyes and smiled at the memories as the warmth of the sun caressed her and tenderly kissed her upturned face. It hadn't been all bad. Before Uncle Ben she and her grandmother had been everything to each other. And Gran's arthritis hadn't been as painful back then so she'd still been able to drive and sometimes they would climb into the elderly, coughing car to shop at the nearest stores or picnic by Zigzag Creek or drive all the way to the town to catch a show. But sadly the halcyon days weren't to last.  
Uncle Ben's imminent homecoming coincided with the school summer holidays and Joy Turner's shock letter from the bank informing her she had gone heavily into debt. Cassie's grandmother took off her small round spectacles and put them back on again to re-read the official notification as though by doing this it would somehow alter the bad news.

"But shouldn't they have told you before it happened, Gran?" Cassie was sitting on the arm of the chair reading the letter over her shoulder. "Mum and Dad used to check their bank statements every single month. They said banks always had to tell you about your money."

And then she remembered all the letters from the bank and other official places that had been placed unopened in the letter-rack and for the first time she noticed how old and tired her once lively grandmother had suddenly become in just the last few weeks, as if old age had abruptly caught up with her and for all those cheated years was now demanding recompense in full. It came as a terrible shock to Cassie to realise her grandmother's health was failing. All those little moments of scattiness and forgetfulness that they'd both found incredibly funny at the time suddenly didn't seem so funny anymore. When the phone had been cut off last week Cassie simply assumed there was a fault and Gran would arrange for an engineer to fix it, when the electric had gone off the day before yesterday Cassie simply thought it a great adventure when they sat in front of the coal fire embroidering by its comforting light, dunking biscuits in mugs of tea made with water boiled on the fire range in a whistling copper kettle.

Joy Turner gazed sadly at the patch of soup she'd spilt on the sleeve of her cardigan. "I'm a silly old woman, Cassie. I can't even take care of myself. Whatever am I to do?" She suddenly caught her granddaughter's arm and buried her face against her.

Cassie laughed, thinking she was fooling, but to her alarm her grandmother only clutched her tighter and began to sob like a child. She stroked her grey head and soothed and shushed, hiding how lonely and scared she felt inside. She was eleven and a half. Too young to know anything at all about banks and paying bills. She was glad that soon another grown-up would be here to take care of things.

"Don't worry, Gran. Everything will be fine when Uncle Ben comes home," she whispered reassuringly.

And to begin with everything it _was_ fine. It was wonderful to see the happiness in Gran's face, to hear her singing again as she cooked dinner, to know she was so pleased to have her son back. Uncle Ben quickly had everything sorted. The electric and telephone were reconnected, the bank withdrew its charges, and his regular wage as a delivery driver taking dairy produce from the local farms to the surrounding villages provided a much needed regular income now that Grandad's insurance, that Joy had been spending so freely, had finally run out. With Cassie and her Gran growing fruit and vegetables, Ben's pay-out from the Army and his regular wage they managed well enough. Some weekends however he bought himself some beers and sat at home drinking. Heavily. But where was the harm when he worked so hard?

The first time he knocked on her bedroom door Cassie shouted happily for him to come in, thinking he was curious to know who she was talking to. It was a particularly bright night and Cassie, who had a vivid imagination and was very young for her age, had been making up tales for Betsy (who was half snoozing on the window ledge) about the long grey clouds that were scudding through the sky being very tall people on their way to the moon to buy star-luminous space trinkets or to catch moon-ships that would sail through a sky that, according to Cassie, turned into a deep blue river on the other side. She knew by his staggering that Uncle Ben had been drinking but she was unperturbed. When her father had met up with his friends for a night out he'd sometimes returned home slightly the worse for wear. If the meet-up happened on a non-school night he would bring back something for them to eat and he and Cassie would sit on Cassie's bed talking about their favourite soccer team or what Cassie had done at school, munching away on cheese and tomato pizza or fish and chips washed down with apple or orange tango. Mum would get mad at him of course but eventually things would calm down and then they would all sit talking and enjoying the feast.

So Cassie only smiled as her uncle fell into the room. His breath reeked of beer but then so had her father's. Her smile became more uncertain however and she felt a shiver of fear when he crouched down beside her and put his arm round her thin shoulders. Gran was a deep sleeper, her bedroom at the opposite side of the farm-house, and Daddy had never...

The cosy old-fashioned world Cassie and her Gran had cocooned themselves within, making their rag-rug while watching _Gone With the Wind _or _The Wizard of Oz_, collecting wind-fallen apples from the two benevolent old apple trees to bake apple pie, climbing into the cantankerous car to picnic by Zigzag Creek with home-grown strawberries, thick chunks of cheese on home-baked bread and home-made raspberry, ginger and honey lemonade (their own invention and an acquired taste) all this had gone forever. Gran's arthritis made it impossible for her to drive these days and she often found it difficult even to knit and sew now. There were no more gadgets delivered. Grandad's insurance money had run out and Danny Byrne had stopped calling with parcels some time ago, just before he and his wife and new baby moved to the city.

Cassie crept downstairs, fully dressed after a sleepless night, wondering how on earth she was going to tell her grandmother something she didn't understand herself. She hoped Uncle Ben would be out gardening as he often was on Sundays but to her dismay he sat at the table tucking into bacon and eggs and chatting with his mother. And Cassie froze. Gran was looking at her only son with such adoration. How could Cassie break her heart?

There was no one to tell.

She slid into her chair and sat staring at her breakfast, not caring that her skin was red and raw after her furious shower, not caring that her hair was still soaking wet and dripping down on to the plate.

Joy Turner jumped anxiously out of her seat. Usually on Sundays her granddaughter ate a hearty breakfast and pottered about in her nightclothes watching TV or reading before taking a long, leisurely bubble bath. "Whatever's the matter, Cassie? Are you crook? Oh, sweetheart, you're burning up!"

Cassie looked up. Uncle Ben was behaving exactly how he always did. Had it all been some terrible, terrible dream? _Perhaps it never actually happened! _A sliver of hope fluttered momentarily into her heart. And then he said something about Cassie being a growing girl and Cassie knew with overwhelming certainty that it had. She leapt from the table, feeling suddenly sick, and raced to the bathroom.

Gran hurried after her fussing. "Oh, you poor lamb! You've probably caught a nasty chill after being out in that rain yesterday. This is all my fault, I should never have let you stay out so long digging, I should have insisted you came in when I told you to. Now I'm going to give you a dose of medicine and then we'll have you tucked up on the couch with hot chocolate and we'll watch ..."

Cassie smiled weakly and allowed herself to be hugged and cosseted and kissed. How could she tell her? Gran loved him. He was her son and she was proud of him. She would crumple if she ever knew the truth. And if she killed herself it would break her grandmother's heart too though she thought about it so often after Uncle Ben. Especially when Gemma and Amy did what they did. She had sat on the edge of the bath rattling the bottle of tablets round in her hands.

She noticed a piece of ragged paper marking a place. She pulled it out and unfolded it from its straw-like twist to read the shakily-written writing still blotched by tears.

_My name is Cassandra Patricia Turner and I am eleven. I hope I never get to be twelve. Because then it will stop. _

Tears rained gently down Cassie's face for a childhood lost. Only the years changed. School after school after school. They called her Crazy Cassie. They locked her in cupboards and laughed at her and mocked when she rocked herself to and fro trying to shake away everything he'd done. Nobody to ever understand. Nobody to ever turn to. With heavy heart, she flicked through the sad, lonely pages. And then she came to the last diary entry and suddenly all the sadness melted away.

_Okay, I know it's years since I last wrote in here but I just had to tell someone!! I started Summer Bay High today. I thought it was going to be like all the other schools and it was at first. I was reading the notice-board and I knew they were laughing and saying stuff but I pretended I couldn't hear. Then the COOLEST thing happened. A girl came up to me and started talking. She said her name was Martha but to call her Mac. And she seemed nice, you know, like she wanted to be friends. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell Mac everything and then it won't hurt so much anymore. Imagine what it must be like to have someone to talk to. Imagine having someone to listen. Imagine having A FRIEND_

"Thanks for being there," she said quietly. She ripped out the precious page, folded it neatly into four squares and placed it carefully in her jeans pocket. A memory she would keep forever.

Cassie picked up the box of matches and struck a match. The heat briefly warmed her fingers as the yellow flame flickered tremulously in the bright sunlight. She threw the lighted match on to the thick book, the smell of burning permeating the air, and drew her knees up to her chin to watch until gradually the Five Year Diary became a blackened and charred nothingness and tiny curled pieces fell and scattered on the summer breeze. Then she rose to her feet and stamped out the dying fire. The smoke curled one last time. Gone.

Uncle Ben had died two days ago. He'd been drinking in the town and had staggered in front of a hay truck winding its way down the narrow country lane. Sam and Eileen Quinn, whose farm the hay truck had been driving away from, had taken Gran into town to make the funeral arrangements. Cassie said she's stay behind and keep an eye on The Old Farm and the elderly Betsy. But she'd stayed behind to burn the Five Year Diary. To know the overwhelming relief of him being gone. And to know she had a friend.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
She smiled up at the night sky. She was still Crazy Cassie. Maybe she always would be. Or... maybe she _wouldn't._ With friends you could be strong. With friends you could do anything. Somehow she wasn't surprised when Hayley emerged from the window and joined her outside. She said nothing but only shifted along the wooden bench to make room.

"You're seriously loopy!" Hayley said coldly. "Only loonies sit on their own laughing at nothing. What are you waiting for, a full moon? It's a scientific fact weirdos get even more weird when it's a full moon. That's where they got the word lunatic from, did you know that?"

Hayley spat out the insults with her usual malice yet her words weren't hurting anymore. Cassie didn't look at her. She carried on watching the storm. "I know you're lonely, Hayles," she replied evenly. "I know you'd give anything to have the friendship I have with Mac. I know I don't need you, you need me. So if you can't speak to me civilly you can get lost."

"WHAT?" Hayley screeched loudly. "You stupid, stupid, ugly, pathetic litttle jerk. This is my par..."

"You heard me, Hayley." Cassie could hardly believe she was saying it herself. It was if she'd found an inner strength. "If you can't speak to me civilly, get lost." She stood up wondering whether to make a run through the rain back inside to the party. She wouldn't let what happened with Kane Phillips ruin her life like her uncle had ruined it. She was stronger than that. She was worth more than that.

And then Hayley suddenly screamed. Cassie turned just in time to see the glowing white misty shape of a woman emerging from Whitelady Copse.

"It's the ghost!" Hayley squealed. "It's Lady Eleanor!"

Cassie laughed. "It's someone dressed up fooling around. It's so obvious even a blind man could see it. Anyway, I have to go..."

"Cassie! Cassie, don't leave me!" Hayley clutched her arm, staring at the apparition, transfixed by terror.

Despite all Hayley's cruel words, Cassie's big soft heart was touched.

"I'm not leaving, Hayles," she said gently. "Friends don't. Not unless they absolutely have to."


	33. Chapter 33

_****sighs** I've just discovered that Chapter 17 and Chapter 24, and 26-31 have mysteriously disappeared. No idea how that happened unless I've accidentally been deleting them. Anyway, if for any reason you want to read the missing chapters you'll find them on backtothebay under fan fiction thread and title "Summer Bay High"- which might be a better idea actually as now the format has mysteriously changed and become much smaller. Anyway, here's the next chapter, let's hope it decides to stay around!**_

_**CHAPTER 33 **_

_** BLOWIN' IN THE WIND**_

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat  
**_

_**How many years can a mountain exist  
Before it's washed to the sea?  
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist  
Before they're allowed to be free?  
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,  
Pretending he just doesn't see?  
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,  
The answer is blowin' in the wind.**_

_**Blowin' in the Wind © Bob Dylan **_

He didn't want to go back. But if he didn't go back home where else could he go?

Home! What the hell was home? It had never been a home, it had been a swimming training centre. Swimming being the only thing he was ever any good at, his father had coached him in it as thoroughly as though he were preparing for an Olympic marathon. _Home!_ Yeh, _as if!_

Kim snorted derisively as though someone else had made the suggestion he go there and he wasn't all alone on this storm-ravaged night, sheltering from a particularly heavy deluge of rain under the spreading branches of a convenient tree. Which was probably the most stupid thing anyone could do in a storm. Yep, even Kim Hyde knew that and Kim Hyde was stupid. Kim Hyde was so stupid he couldn't do anything but swim. Ask his Dad!

He rocked unsteadily. Might as well chance the rain then. Let's face it, he wouldn't exactly drown, would he?

"'Cos I can swim!" He roared, face upturned to the rain. "I may be dumb but I can bloody well swim!"  
He lurched forward drunkenly, stretching out his arms and clasping his hands as though about to make a dive, only to lose his footing in the slippery mud and bang his head against the tree. Half-heartedly, he rubbed the blood from his cut forehead with the cuff of his sleeve. After his earlier scuffle with Jack, he was already bloodied and bruised. A few more scratches wouldn't make much difference. He sucked in a breath. Had he really laid into Jack Holden like that? What the hell had gotten into him tonight?

Kim was by nature a peacemaker and hated throwing punches but the drink had fired his emotions. Yet if he was honest with himself his anger hadn't been directed at Jack and Gypsy's smooching despite the pain and humiliation of knowing Gypsy Nash had seduced him and then immediately ditched him simply because she knew it would wind up Hayley and seducing guys and winding up Hayley seemed to be Gypsy's sole purpose on this earth. No, if he was honest with himself, he'd always been angry with his Dad. All his life he had yearned to feel loved yet something always held his father back. He'd been given everything, toys and pocket money, the latest video games and gadgets, and, as he got older, even his own brand new car, but none of it could ever compensate for what he wanted most, to bridge the chasm that always seemed to exist between them, as if they were strangers who just happened to share the same genes.

Widower Barry Hyde tried to instil into his son to _"be a man"_ and never show emotion but Kim was a sensitive kid and, if only he'd been clever enough to pass exams, probably destined for a career as a vet, for he was never able to walk past if any creature was hurt. When he was only ten years old he'd even risked his own life to save some fledgling birds from would-be predators, with grim determination climbing to the top of a tree to tenderly place the fallen nest safely back amongst its braches before plunging from its dizzy heights himself, breaking an arm, fracturing his collarbone and suffering a (mercifully brief) bout of concussion.

But even today he could recall clear as a bell when he came round in the hospital because that was the only time he thought he saw his father cry though he'd long since convinced himself it was his imagination.

_"Dad!"_

_Kim didn't meant to sound as surprised as he obviously was. He had been given an injection to ease the pain but it had made him drowsy and he'd been waking only fleetingly ever since. He was aware that he was in hospital and that they were trying to get in touch with his father, who was somewhere out on the road, travelling to an education conference in another town. It was only natural that when Barry Hyde was contacted he would hurry back to his son's bedside. But there had been a niggling little doubt at the back of little boy's mind telling him Dad would probably be far too busy and was far too important to return immediately. And there was something else that added to his astonishment, something he knew he would remember forever...the smell of antiseptic, the touch of the crisp white sheets, the hushed footsteps and murmur of voices, all combined to freeze-frame the moment he saw the tears shining in his father's eyes._

_"What on earth were you doing?"_

_  
There was a catch in Barry Hyde's voice and his hair stood on end as though he'd been running his fingers through it. Despite the grogginess Kim felt suddenly blissfully happy as a cloud of warmth descended and enveloped him._

_"I found a nest...the chicks...they'd have died," he croaked sleepily._

_He was almost sure his Dad squeezed his hand. __Almost sure. "Son, it's good that you care so much. But you have to..."_

_Oh, God, he fought so hard to stay awake and in that bubble of happiness but the injection had been a powerful one and was pulling him back like some strong magnetic force. A ten-year-old boy was no match for it. He fell helplessly and angrily back into the pain-free darkness without ever learning what the but was._

_When, much later, he woke anew Barry Hyde stood at the bottom of the bed talking with his doctor, no longer the anxious, flurried parent but instead every inch the school principal he was, perfectly groomed, hair smoothed back, fingers locked behind his ramrod straight back, nodding his head approvingly at the doctor's chart as though discussing proposed timetables with the school secretary. Kim blinked back tears that his father never saw, his heart aching, longing with every fibre of his being to go back to that moment and knowing he never could. Or even if it happened._

_He tried to ask about the memory but somehow the words never came out right._

_"Dad, when I was in hospital did you...?"_

_Barry Hyde looked up from the newspaper and the top of his reading glasses, pen poised in air, about to stab in a figure in answer to a particularly complicated sudoku puzzle. And he waited. And waited. Expectantly at first and then in amusement as the minutes ticked by._

_Kim swallowed and stared at a spot on the wall that he suddenly seemed to find fascinating. What was he thinking? He and his Dad didn't go in for girly emotional stuff like this. They never had done. __Did you squeeze my hand and cry? What sort of geek asked questions like that?_

_"For goodness sake, Kim, let's try and have this conversation before one of us dies!"_

_It was one of Barry Hyde's rare attempts at humour and even though the corner of his lips twitched the remark unintentionally came across as a sarcastic put-down. After the unusually more relaxed atmosphere since Kim's discharge from hospital, they both sensed the subtle shift in gear back to their status quo._

_"When I was in hospital, did you put my footie boots anywhere?" He finished lamely._

_His father frowned. "I should imagine they'll be in their usual place, in the cupboard under the stairs. Though surely you're not feeling up to playing football?"_

_"Nuh. I was just checking."_

_  
"Right."_

_Barry Hyde went back to the sudoko puzzle and Kim Hyde went to pretend to look for his football boots. So he never knew. And anyway he probably dreamt it._

_Maybe, Kim used to think as a kid, in one of his many sleepless speculations as to why they never bonded as father and son, his Dad suspected he might be gay. Occasionally other kids __had called him that and Kim had flushed, which didn't help matters, even though he knew there was no truth in the name-calling. Not that he had anything against anyone who was gay. As far as Kim was concerned, there was room for everybody in the world. It was just he wasn't, he liked girls, a lot, and didn't see the need to fight to prove it._

But even now the only time he could ever recall his father hugging him had been the time he was dating Irene Roberts and then only because Irene had agreed to go to the theatre with him.

Kim sniffed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Dad changed so much for the better during the short time he was with Irene. Become a different person. Cracks in that cold reserve had begun to show like icicles melting slowly in a wintry sun. Sometimes he'd be heard whistling catchy little tunes or he'd chat easily to Kim about some light-hearted item in the news, occasional weekends he'd suggest they order pizza for dinner; once he'd even joined Kim to watch his son's favourite comedy show that he usually dismissed as _"mindless drivel"_ and had actually sat laughing out loud.

Kim sighed nostalgically and looked down towards the Summer Bay Diner Irene Roberts was running while its owner Alf Stewart was away on a long vacation. And then he did a double take as he saw several strange yellow lights flickering steadfastly in its windows. Maybe he should go see if everything was okay. At least it would be an excuse not to go home yet, if nothing else. He pulled up his collar, bowed his head and squelched determinedly through the mud and rain like a moth called to a flame.

Kim Hyde didn't know it then but he was about to hear something about his past that would change his whole life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That wasn't funny, Gyps," Noah Lawson commented, after an uneasy silence.

The Baystormer was receding now, moving out across the ocean to hit the distant costal towns, the rain stopping for several minutes at a time, returning in short, sharp bursts to catch people off guard. Raindrops still pattered rhythmically as he spoke but they were earlier, lighter drops that dripped down through the branches of Whitelady Woods' shadowy trees where they had been gathering to fall like silvery tears.

"I mean, okay, it _was_...at first." he conceded, in answer to her piercing look, reminding him guiltily of his own initial laughter. "But not after a while."

"Personally," Gypsy replied, slightly appeased. "I thought it was the funniest thing I've seen in years."

She smirked as best her lips would allow, her face being covered as it was in a luminous greasepaint that, together with a white wedding dress, bonnet and matching gloves, she'd borrowed from the props department of Summer Bay High (fervently hoping that the greasepaint would wash off easily enough later) and pulled back the long white gloves, idly wondering if the props department would mind if she borrowed them on a semi-permanent basis. She'd taken quite a liking to those gloves. Maybe she'd look out for a black pair to match some sexy black undies for when she was in _femme fatale _mood. Which she usually was, she thought amusedly.

Gypsy was on a high. Hayley's terror of ghosts had been a very interesting revelation that she'd only learnt of that night, when she'd overheard Adam Kerr telling a couple of mates about Hayley imagining she'd heard a ghost and then going on to relate in crude detail how he'd tried to use the information to get inside her knickers and how he had no intention of giving up. All three laughed and shook hands on the twenty dollar bet he proposed, that he'd score with the Ice Queen before this party was over, something about Kane Phillips could always take the rap. Whatever, Gypsy had stopped listening long before they drifted off, too busy wondering how and when to put this fascinating snippet of gossip about Hayley's phobia to best use.

Coming face to face in Summer Bay High's common room with the blown-up photo of her naked self with the lipstick-smeared word _"SLUT" _written in large capital letters over her exposed body had clinched the when. The when was going to be _now!_

Gypsy had stood, sobbing and shaking in Jack's arms, feeling as violated as she had the day she learnt she'd been found as a tiny baby, naked and trussed up tightly as a chicken for the oven, and left to die high on jagged cliffs in the scorching heat. Well, if Hayley could play dirty so could Gypsy. As an eleven-year-old, Gypsy hadn't won the part of _Tallulah_ in the school play _Bugsy Malone _within weeks of starting at Summer Bay High for nothing. Like Hayley's younger brother Nick, currently away in Hollywood where he'd been signed up for a movie, albeit a low-budget movie, she had a flair for acting. And maybe she _should_ have stopped that long, leisurely Lady Eleanor walk out of Whitelady Woods when Hayley looked deathly grey, as if she were actually going to have a heart attack and die of fright, but what the hell, Miss Piranha sure deserved payback for stooping so low.

Noah, Jack and Kit exchanged glances although Kit Hunter, who'd been at the receiving end of Hayley's spite often enough before, mixed it in with a shrug and a half smile. They had eagerly gone along with Gypsy's idea to dress up as Lady Eleanor and give Hayley a short, sharp shock because Gypsy's fury when she tore the hated picture into snowflake-sized shreds was preferable to witnessing that stark devastation and hearing those heart-rending sobs that tore at the very depths of your soul. But somehow it all seemed to have got out of hand.

The original plan had been for Gypsy, dressed up as Lady Eleanor Hartwell, who reputedly haunted Whitelady Woods hence its name, to make a brief appearance at the party but for Gypsy it had been a golden opportunity too good to miss when, in full glare of one of the mansion security lights, she espied her arch enemy sitting on the window seat with Crazy Cassie. And if Gypsy needed a backdrop for her act the storm was more than willing to provide one. Even she was unaware of how well the flash of lightning framed her and made her Lady Eleanor Hartwell slow-walk all the more convincing. And, okay, it _had_ gone on longer than anyone really felt comfortable with, but who cared?

Pleased with the show, Gypsy undid the ribbons on the bonnet and tumbled out her thick mane of red hair.

"Pity Crazy Cassie was babysitting," she remarked airily. "Princess Piranha's face! Now _that_ would've made a great photo to put up in the common room!"

She twirled the bonnet round by its brim and spun it up into the air where it hooked itself neatly on a tree branch. Kit caught her eye and grinned. That was all it took. They fell against each other, dissolving into peals of laughter.

"I hope she's okay though," Noah said worriedly, looking towards the Smith mansion. "She looked pretty shaken up."

"Oh, stuff you, Godfreak!" Gypsy rounded on him, angry too because Kit had checked her laughter and gone over to him. "Don't you think _I_ had a tough time of it tonight? Go join a monastery if you feel that bad!"

She felt a light touch on her elbow and breathed more slowly.

"Gyps," Jack said mildly.

His brown eyes were gentle and her heart lurched as she thought suddenly of Will. If anyone had asked her to describe Will Smith's eyes, she would have said they were always laughing. But that wasn't strictly true. Sometimes his eyes were sad and she knew she'd hurt him. And she couldn't help but hurt Will. She had to hurt him so he wouldn't love her because she didn't deserve to be loved. If she deserved to be loved, she never would have been left to die all alone high on those jagged rocks.

"Sorry," Gypsy muttered. "Not about Hayley but for what I said."

"No worries," Noah shrugged.

Calmer now, she glanced up and was overwhelmingly relieved to have both Noah and Kit smile back at her. It meant so much when so very few people smiled in friendship at Gypsy. She buried her head against Jack's chest, breathing in his manliness, the closeness of his body comforting her. He stroked her hair and lifted her head to meet his lips to let her know he understood.

But he wasn't Will. He never could be.

Jack read her expression. "Is it too soon?" He asked, recalling their earlier pact that night to be friends rather than lovers. Both of them without their true loves seeking consolation from each other.

"Yeh." Gypsy smiled, glad of the excuse. "It's just...too soon."

"It's okay," he said.

Jack was a nice guy. She rested her head against his chest again and tears brimmed in her eyes. She had no one to blame but herself. It was all her own fault she'd lost Will, the only guy she had ever truly loved, forever.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

**IRENE**

**_written by I love music_**

**_ideas and suggestions by Skykat_**

Barry Hyde, who had pulled up the chair opposite, spoke at last, his voice thick with emotion. "That was beautiful. I had no idea your mother wrote poetry."

"Neither did I. Not until after her death."

Irene Roberts' voice was unusually shaky and she placed the last page on her lap to wipe the corners of her eyes with the heels of her hands. Reading by candlelight while the clock Evelyn McFarlane had bought so long ago ticked steadily on and rain pattered against the Diner windows had made the words all the more poignant. She smiled sadly as Barry caught hold of her hands and stroked her wrists gently with his thumbs. Never before had she confided in anyone as much as she'd confided in Barry. Never before had she trusted another human being to reach so deep within her soul.

"They said that summer was perfect." Irene's voice was little more than a whisper. "The news every night would show happy people soaking up the sun or jokey items like folk frying eggs on pavements. They said sales of cold drinks and ice creams rocketed. They said the economy had never been in better shape. Cafés, hotels, pubs, shops, everywhere hired staff, everyone was out and about, everyone spent like there was no tomorrow. I remember everybody seemed to be smiling that perfect summer. Everybody smiled but me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She found it when she hadn't been looking and knew at once it was what she had been searching for.

The unassuming biscuit tin, its faded wrapping torn across pictures of jammie dodgers and custard creams long since eaten, sat quietly and unobtrusively by the cardboard boxes of clothes, toys and books earmarked for the charity shop, patient and uncomplaining next to the broken goods destined for the garbo, lonely and unloved, a little apart from the bundle of newspapers tied neatly with string ready to be taken to the recycling bin. Waiting. Its moment would be soon.

Bright sunlight from that perfect summer burst furiously into the house the moment she took down the curtains that had been respectfully drawn since their funerals and realised too late that she'd given a street audience free access to what they seemed to regard as their own live show. Small knots of people from Morningside Crescent and its surrounding streets were gathered in huddles, one or two carefully keeping small children close by as though just by looking on her, someone who had lost a mother, step-father and four siblings in the space of one day, might somehow cause their own family to be spirited away too.

A group of older kids, some of whom Irene recognised, some of whom were from outside the neighbourhood, two or three leaning on bikes, one boy absently munching potato chips, stared uneasily towards the house. Two elderly brothers, who had never married and lived in Morningside Crescent all their lives, who called each other "bro" and who had been nicknamed Twinny and Tweeny so long ago that their real names were lost far back in the mists of time, leaned on their front gate watching Irene intently while their old black cat, her fur peppered with white now, snoozed contentedly on the window-sill in the sun.

Mrs Elizabeth Howell and Miss Winifred Cumberland, both leading lights in the community, who had together set up the annual best-kept garden competition (rumour has it to shame the Dreadful McFarlanes into tidying their scruffy, overgrown garden) and who some years previously had been instrumental in ensuring a local fish and chip shop was never opened ("It could attract more of the likes those Dreadful McFarlane children!" Elizabeth "Betty" Howell confided in her great friend Felicity Silverthorne as they shook their heads over the wicked ways of the world while gossiping over coffee and cakes) were whispering to one another in disgust. Because disgusting was what it was, they agreed. Her family barely cold in their graves after the car crash and her brother taking his own life and there she was, reeking of alcohol, staggering all over the place.

And bouquets of flowers wrapped in shiny, crinkly cellophane, tied with ribbons fluttering tenderly as a child's prayer, colours bright as a summer song, perfumes dancing on the whispering breeze, carpeted every area of the McFarlane front garden, long since paved-over. But nobody came to ask how she was. Because nobody really cared.

The McFarlane family had been told often enough what they thought of them.

_Eleven-year-old Irene McFarlane, eldest of six (very soon to be eldest of seven as little Christabel would arrive in this chequered world two days after Boxing Day) singing along - and under her breath so as not to wake her younger brothers and sisters - to Silent Night playing softly on the radio, stepped back to admire the chocolate coins that she and her mother had just finished hanging on the Xmas tree, for the little ones, unable to resist, always surreptitiously ate them if they were put there any earlier than Xmas Eve._

_The little tree, together with six red and gold baubles and a Xmas angel, had been stolen from P J Cropper's Superstore (Everything You Want and More!) exactly two years ago that day - ssh though, I shouldn't really be telling you this, but neither Evelyn nor P J Cropper's ever did discover the theft anyway so what does it matter all these years later? Evelyn naively believed her nine-year-old daughter's story that she'd found the items dumped behind the store for the garbo; the customer Irene shadowed to make it look as though she were shopping with her mother never once turned round to notice the little girl following her; the security guard was busy watching a cleaner put a barrier round a smashed bottle of sherry; and a spotty-faced boy working on the Xmas department of P J Cropper's over the holiday period idly wondered about the cheeky-looking kid trailing after her mum dragging a Xmas tree box he couldn't recall anyone paying for, then checked his watch to see how long he had till break-time. Evelyn, who thought it an amazing coincidence that only the previous day she had been sighing to Irene over the now sorry state of the tree bought by the twins' father for their very first Xmas (since their split Mike collected the twins on Boxing Day and always jealously made sure that at his own home the annually bought real tree was decorated like a scene straight out of a Victorian Xmas card) and how she wished she had the money to buy a new one truly believed it was a very, very lucky find._

"_It looks lovely, darling," Evelyn said, putting her arm round her daughter's shoulders and kissing the top of her head from an awkward angle, her fat, round stomach (Evelyn was convinced the way she was carrying all at the front it had to be a girl) making any more graceful movement impossible._

_Irene smiled in satisfaction. The tree was all finished now with the Xmas angel atop and dozens of small wrapped presents at its bottom. The kitchen smelled of mince pies and Xmas cake and the table was set with last year's Xmas theme plastic table-cloth (the hole that Terry had accidentally made last year in his hurry to get up and play with the new toys was hardly noticeable, Irene and her mother decided) and Xmas crackers that until very recently had slept in dented boxes, twelve to a bed, and which the snooty manager of a snooty store was forced to reluctantly sell off dirt cheap just before closing time when people flatly refused to pay full price for damaged stock._

_There weren't many cards - there never were; Evelyn had no relatives other than her children and nobody liked the Dreadful McFarlanes very much - but Irene had created a very pretty makeshift card holder adorned with green and silver tinsel to hold what few they had. The decorations were enjoying their annual outing from the loft, yawning and stretching luxuriously from the four corners of the ceiling in the living-room, dining room and even the little vestibule, with Xmas bells, lanterns and balloons draped at regular intervals. Interspersed with these were paper chains made by the kids, as Irene called her younger siblings: nine-year-old twins Katie and Jill, seven-year-old Benji, Terry, who toddled along full of self-importance at three-and-a-half, and Ruthie, who'd just turned two and gave him as good as she got. At least, the older ones had made paper chains; Terry and Ruthie had played "snow" with the white crepe paper and almost toppled the tree when their game deteriorated into a fight hence its current lop-sidedness as though at any moment it intended to hobble across the room. Not that mother and daughter seemed to notice, their faces glowing with pride in the reflected glory of the red and gold hues of the stolen baubles ._

_It promised to be a good Xmas this year, Irene thought happily. Not that it was ever a bad Xmas - Irene always organised the kids with the presents they wanted to get and Evelyn always made sure her children had several small, inexpensive gifts that she bought and hid throughout the year, and all round the year too coins would be thrown into the "Xmas jar" (a family size washed-out coffee jar) to ensure there was enough buy everything needed for Xmas dinner. But this year Jeff Maddox, Terry's father and the father of Evelyn's as yet unborn child, had turned up again unexpectedly a few nights ago, swearing he was going to stay and face up to his responsibilities this time, and was that very evening working as a barman in a rundown hotel, cash in hand so that it didn't affect Evelyn's welfare money. The pay wasn't much and he worked long hours to earn it, but it came in useful to buy the little extras of Xmas._

_Mum was so much happier with Jeff , Irene noted, than with any of her other boyfriends, and the kids were very fond of him. Jeff, being pretty much a big kid himself, joined in all their games with equal enthusiasm - Benji had been very impressed when he took the rap for the broken window during a game of indoor footie, claiming it only hit Benji's foot because he'd passed it to him, and promising to fix things. As good as his word, a thick piece of wood now blocked the draught - and all light - from the vestibule window and was covered, inside and out, with chalked pictures that, aided and abetted by Jeff, who's idea it was, several small hands had sketched._

_Sometimes, Irene thought, amusedly watching the horrified expressions of Mr and Mrs Hudson from No 11 as they passed by and saw the graffitti'd wood, she could almost imagine Jeff joining in Benji, Terry and Ruthie's favourite game of throwing clumps of mud on snobby neighbours' paths and then running off with all three of them! Still, Jeff was a great help in other ways. Evelyn got very mixed up with cooking so Irene, who'd made the Xmas cake, got Jeff to ice it and to prepare the trifle and even tonight had him help Evelyn prepare the veg and supervise the twins baking mince pies before he left for his busy Xmas Eve shift. And Evelyn being pregnant and Irene not quite tall enough to reach, Jeff had hung all the decorations this year, which was why they looked "very swanky" as Katie and Jill described it._

_Nobody knew then that Jeff would leave again in a few days' time. They should have. Jeff had a habit of turning up and never staying very long. It was always the same reason._

"_I'm sorry, Evie, but I'm too young to be tied down and I'm exhausted with all this working. I've arranged for a taxi to pick me up at four."_

_Nobody knew then how Terry and Ruthie would press their little tear-smeared faces against the living-room window, screaming for him to come back, how Christabel, cradled in her heartbroken mother's arms, would wail in sympathy, how Benji would act macho and mutter "Well, he don't want us. Who cares? No use bawlin' over it" but he'd kick the wall as he turned away, his big brown eyes shining with tears. Katie and Jill had been away at their father's when the drama unfolded and, when Irene worriedly asked if they were okay after she broke the news, they assured her they were fine because they had their real Dad. But that night when they were painting in their colouring-in books Irene, wondering why they were so suspiciously quiet, looked up to see both had silent tears trickling down on the pages._

_Irene however didn't cry. Irene stood with fists on hips and told it like it was. Jeff rolled down the window again to continue with the same excuses he had making to Evelyn until she had to shepherd her distraught children indoors._

_But he barely opened his mouth. "Irene, I'm so sorry. One day you'll grow up and..."_

_Irene launched, eyes blazing. "Now you just shut your bloody big gob and listen to me, Jeff Maddox. It's way past time you grew up, matey! You got rocks in your head if you think waltzing in and out of people's lives is the way to behave. And don't give me all that rubbish about needing your freedom. You've got two kids to my Mum and you've got responsibilities and even if you didn't have two kids all six kids adore you like you was their own Dad and you've managed to bloody well break their hearts again as well as my Mum's. You're a good bloke, Jeff, but you got sawdust for brains between those lugholes. Grow up? Me grow up? Give it a try yourself some time, you flamin' great galah! "_

_Irene hadn't paused for breath and she marched back into the house without giving Jeff a chance to reply. Someone had to hold it all together and her family needed her._

_The taxi driver roared with laughter. "God help the poor bloke who winds up married to that Sheila! Jeez, imagine the fights!"_

"_I think," Jeff whispered, in one of his rare moments of insight and shamed by Irene's words. "Whoever has Irene by their side has already won the battle."_

"_What's that, mate? Didn't catch ya."_

"_Nothing, nothing. Best hurry or I'll miss my train."_

_And because someone had to hold it all together it was Irene who ran to her mother when she heard her gasp as she went out to empty the trash the Xmas Eve Jeff was working in the busy rundown hotel bar, the children slept and the stolen Xmas tree was considering limping across the room._

"_The b------ds!" Irene declared hotly._

"_Bludgers" had been carved in large, damning, diagonal letters across the back door._

"_Irene!" Evelyn, who never swore herself, was shocked by her outburst. "I'm sure they didn't really mean it, dear. Sometimes people do silly things when they've been drinking."_

_Irene bit her tongue to stop a whole tirade of swear words. She was all for banging on doors and demanding the coward reveal themselves but Evelyn would never allow that. Her mother was far too innocent for this cruel world at times._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Poor Evelyn McFarlane, with her clutch of qualifications in such obscure subjects as Deportment, Ancient Greece and Embroidery gained at the exclusive boarding school where "gaarls" came from all over the world to be educated and after their education returned to their grand homes, country estates and even, very occasionally, palaces, and to which her family had sent her to hide the scandal of her illegitimate birth, never fitted in. Her fabulously wealthy grandparents, who'd paid for her education and whom she never met, cut their disgraced daughter and her illegitimate child out of their will and left their enormous fortune to a cats' home. (It is to be hoped that the cats made great use of their legacy, perhaps with silk-sheet-lined cat beds and four-and-five-course banquets that they sat on satin cushions to devour while Evelyn's children shivered under old coats thrown over thin duvets and often went to bed still hungry there being nothing to eat but bread and jam.)

Penniless after her mother's death, unable to keep up the maintenance payments of their luxurious home and unable to get a job with qualifications that failed to impress prospective employers (who secretly thought that with her cut-glass accent Evelyn must have money stashed away in banks and bonds and anyway would last no more than a week in the real world) Evelyn on her twenty-first birthday found herself living on Government hand-outs and downsizing to a pokey little flat. And that was when she fell hopelessly in love for the very first time.

Hal (she never did find out his real name) was an ex-soldier, helping a mate out with the van he'd borrowed to raise cash before embarking on a round-the-world trip and which he'd advertised as "Man and Van for Hire - No Job too Big or too Small" and which Evelyn found cheap enough and adequate enough for the small amount of furniture she had left to take with her, the likes of the grand piano and grandfather clock all having gradually been sold off to pay for the upkeep of her home before she finally had to admit defeat.

In the absence of anyone else to buy one, Evelyn had treated herself to a large chocolate cake and when Hal, who had dark, curly hair and a dazzling smile, jokingly asked if she was celebrating moving in she quite seriously, and without an ounce of self-pity, told him about her birthday. Hal had been so sympathetic that Evelyn almost cried. He and the friend, Steve, had insisted on buying bottles of wine and Chinese takeaways and the three sat on the bare floorboards of the cramped flat with its crumbling plaster and chipped paint while music blared and a fierce argument raged in the alcoholic's flat below (par for the course, as Evelyn was to soon learn). Dizzy with happiness at his attention and even though Hal admitted to being ten years older, Evelyn was convinced she had found her soul-mate. She was horrified some time later when she learnt that Hal was married with four children, regarded Evelyn as "a bit of a fling" and apparently thought Evelyn felt the same way. Heartbroken, she immediately cut all ties and moved to a flat even more damp, dark and dismal than the last.

Two months later she found out she was pregnant with Irene.

And so Evelyn lurched through life, falling in love and falling pregnant every time. She was too poor to mix with the people she had known at school while her refined accent and ways marked her out as "too posh" for the working class and "too uppity" for the snooty, middle-class neighbourhood, who resented the welfare authorities moving in a single mother living on hand-outs because a much bigger house was needed to accommodate her ever-growing brood and the exclusive suburb was the only one with a house big enough. It was far too late and rivers had run too deep by the time Jeff Maddox finally did grow up enough to accept responsibility, take a job and settle down. Neighbours still called her an "uppity little madam" although in truth timid, gentle Evelyn never had a bad word to say about anyone.

And nobody saw what Evelyn's children saw, how often she went without herself to ensure they had food, toys and clothes, and how much they knew they were loved.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A lump came to Irene's throat at the memories. Jeff, who hated confrontation as much as Evelyn did, had painted over the back door but anyone who stood close enough could still make out the hateful word Bludgers even now.

Her foot almost missed the bottom step as she stepped down again from the foot-stool with the curtains, only sheer determination not to give the vultures the satisfaction stopping her from falling. She needed another drink but the bottle of strong red wine she'd brought with her had emptied fast. Maybe she should have waited for her best friends Didi and Sadie to come back with her to 10 Morningside Crescent, to the pretty little half-moon shaped street with its detached houses and carefully manicured lawns, as they'd arranged. She knew they'd be furious when they found out she'd gone back to the house on her own.

It was two weeks now since her brother Benji's suicide and the car crash that had wiped out her family and Didi and Sadie had been back with Irene a couple of days earlier to help sort things but on a whim, tiring of psychologists, counsellors and not being considered well enough yet to return to nursing, Irene had decided to catch the train to the little grey town and her old home while her friends were rostered on their nursing shifts. She'd always been fiercely proud of her independence and her determination not to be a burden on anyone had given her the confidence to go on her own.

That, and the bottle of wine she'd downed just before leaving. The other she'd brought with her in the same brown paper store bag that the clerk had placed both bottles inside as he jingled the money into the cash register, wishing her a nice day and unaware of the tragedy that had befallen the pretty young nurse.

She tried hard to concentrate on folding the curtains into one of the suitcases that so recently had held their holiday clothes. Evelyn McFarlane had painstakingly begun making them on the second-hand sewing machine Jeff had stolen for her from a car boot sale and, being hopeless at anything that required manual dexterity, wept in despair over ever completing, her eldest daughter taking over the work as she had so frequently taken up the reins of so many things before.

But she couldn't help but see them all on the edge of her vision.

She was close to baring raw emotion with unchecked tears and it stung her heart to keep them back but the last thing she wanted was for these hypocrites to see her break down. It wasn't the kids. She couldn't be angry with the kids. What did they know? Their parents, who went to church and sent their children there too on Sundays, holy days, and look-at-me-with-fancy-clothes-and-fine-prayers-haven't-I-booked-my-place-in-heaven-days had always told them to keep away from the Dreadful McFarlanes, piously claiming it was disgusting that Evelyn had seven children to five different men. And that she didn't cut the grass or paint the front door in shiny new paint or change the curtains as often as she should.

Irene picked up the dented biscuit tin because it was there. She lifted the lid and sadly riffled through old rent books and long-paid utility bills. And then she came across them.

Yellowing pages torn raggedly from school exercise books, covered in any writing utensil that had been there at the time, green ink, blue ink, red pencil, black felt tip pen...

She suddenly remembered a long ago day, arriving home earlier than usual from school because she, Benji and the twins had run all the way when they were caught in an unexpected rainstorm. Her mother, having completely forgotten to switch on the oven or even put the casserole inside, was sitting at the kitchen table, using one of the kids' colouring pencils to scribble something on a scrap of paper while Terry and Ruthie played nearby. A recipe, Evelyn said, scooping up the paper to put into her apron pocket and jumping up to fuss over her children. Irene thought it strange because she knew Mum hated cooking. She'd often found her in tears of despair because the potatoes refused to go soft or the cake had sunk in the middle or the carrots had no intention of being grated with ease and bits of carrot were flying defiantly all over the kitchen. But she'd been too busy helping dry off the kids and then breaking up a fight between Terry and Ruthie to wonder about it for long.

And now, faster than time, the poem leapt out from yesterday and spoke to her heart. Blue skies and gentle breezes carry me home...

Tears blurred and the words ran into each other. She blinked several times, her back to the window, her face hidden from the watchers. It was as if her mother was there again, so close she could almost smell the light lavender and bergamot scent of her favourite perfume. As if she was there giving her strength in her own quiet way to face everything life threw at her. She stood with tears trickling down her cheeks and read each poem over and over. Then she placed the torn pages carefully back in the tin.

She would never return to this house of memories. She carried each of them still in her heart and always would. She had more than these pathetic people would ever have. She picked up the suitcase and tin, slammed the front door for the very last time and head held high left Morningside Crescent forever. She looked back only once.

To the shock of everyone, Irene McFarlane, daughter of Evelyn McFarlane, whom they'd mocked and shunned and looked down upon, paused at the corner of the street, put down the scruffy, battered suitcase and dented biscuit tin and, grinning broadly, jabbed two fingers in the air.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With trembling hands, Irene replaced the poems into the expensive velvet folder she'd bought specially to house the precious pages filled with her mother's small, untidy handwriting.

"Barry, have you ever wondered if there are times in our lives when we're...when we're just guided to something?" She asked when she'd finished telling her story.

"Or to someone," he said brokenly.

And when she looked up and into his eyes she knew she would never be alone again. And all that was to be and all that had ever been echoed through the years of silence like the gossamer threads of dreams.

Like music.

Like dancing.

Like whispers that brush through time asking the eternal question. And at last finding the answer in another's eyes.

"Irene, I've made up my mind. I'm going to tell Kim. And if he hates me..." His voice cracked again. "He hates me."

"He won't hate you, Barry. I promise you."

The sudden drop in temperature, the increased noisiness of the storm, the slight movement, drew them outside their world and into the present, to the shadow that had fallen between them.

"Tell me what, Dad?" Kim stood shivering in the doorway, his hair soaking, candelight shining on his troubled face.


	35. Chapter 35

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I'm well aware this chapter is pretty poor quality. Apologies, everything's been hectic in the run-up to Xmas and work's been mad busy too. This is a Will/Dani/Gypsy chapter. Hopefully, the next chapter will be Barry/Irene/Kim but if not I'll be working on a Hayley/Cassie chapter.

This being a long-drawn-out fic, this chapter relates to Will/Dani scenes written way back in Chapters 17, 28 & 29. And in case you're wondering how I know all this, I had to search for the relevant chapters for continuity purposes... :)

**Chapter 35**

**BROKEN **

_**written by I love music  
ideas and suggestions by Skykat **_

Kirsty Sutherland, her long hair piled up inside a stylish beret, stifled a squeal as a large drop of ice cold rain plopped down from the guttering and caught her square on the back of her bare neck. Couldn't have the 'rents waking! Mum and Dad would kill her if they caught her climbing out of her bedroom window and down a slippery drainpipe in the pouring rain in the middle of the night.

The irony that she might kill herself for real sailed blissfully over daredevil Kirsty's head. And even if anyone had been around to remind her, I doubt it would have made a scrap of difference. Kirsty thrived on danger. And, fortunately, she did have an advantage.

Although she'd only been a student at Summer Bay High for a handful of weeks, lithe, double-jointed Kirsty was already its best gymnast - in the lower school at least. In the somewhat appropriate dizzy heights of its top year and immediately noticeable being the tallest student in the school, Davey Molyneaux, star basketball player of an amateur team and a brilliant all-round sportsman attracting interest from talent scouts for professional teams, had it nailed as its greatest athlete - in one infamous race he'd even given swimming champ Kim Hyde a run for his money _("That's not the correct English, is it? Shouldn't it be a SWIM for his money?" Big-eyed Crazy Cassie Turner enquired quite seriously when she overheard Adam Kerr relating the tale, blushing beetroot red and scuttling away when Hayley and crew burst into mocking laughter_).

Oblivious to the possibility of falling, Kirsty congratulated herself . Dani would owe her big time for this! _Woohoo,_ had to be worth several squirts of Dani's latest expensive perfume or a couple of bucks at the very least!

Despite Kirsty having a twin and Dani being over three years older, the two sisters were very much in the same ball park and born to be rebels - the complete opposite to Kirsty's twin, Jade, who enjoyed cooking, sewing and generally looking after everyone and everything and who could have slipped just as easily into a girl's life of over a hundred years ago without her new-found peers being any the wiser. Kirsty and Dani adored her. Everybody did. It was impossible not to love quiet, generous-hearted little Jade, who would give away her last cent to anyone who asked. Her ambition was to meet a nice guy, settle down, have kids and be a stay-at-home Mum and that was fine, that was Jade. But it _wasn't_ Kirsty or Dani! Dani was blazing a trail in finding out exactly how far a teenage daughter dared go pushing buttons when she had a Dad as doting and protective as their own and Kirsty was behind her every step of the way.

As far as Rhys Sutherland was concerned, no boy was or ever would be good enough for any of his three beautiful daughters and especially not the_ "cocky young mongrel"_ who had rocked up with Dani earlier tonight. It had been Kirsty's idea to listen in on the doorstep argument when Will Smith had walked Dani home from his sister Hayley's birthday party and Jade, always so easily swept up in Kirsty's schemes because Kirsty poured her heart and soul into everything she did, had eagerly gone along with it. Even though the twins hadn't been able to see a thing from the tiny frosted window directly above the front porch because the spoilsport porch roof blocked the view, both had thoroughly enjoyed the drama of Dani being a diva, Mum trying to calm things down and Dani's new boyfriend, confronted with Rhys Sutherland Rage, managing to say all the wrong things. Of course they'd been rumbled and, under threat of a week's grounding, banished to their own bedroom at the back of the house and with none of the exciting view, where Jade soon drifted off to sleep. Kirsty however was still wide awake and as soon as she thought sufficient time had elapsed crept out on to the landing to find out what she'd missed.

Dad was still ranting over Dani's new boyfriend and, _wowee,_ it was a scorcher! She was almost sure she could feel the heat of his anger sweeping up the stairs. Mum's much calmer response meant she only heard the murmur of her voice so Kirsty didn't know what was said in return. But she did know something else: Dad's anti-Will Smith stance had instantly made Will Smith a hundred times more wantable!

She jumped as she heard Dani gasp and, much as she longed to know the reason why, Dani's bedroom door had an exceptionally loud squeak that would alert her parents faster than a crim turned supergrass and Dani had already been interrogated with hot needles tonight as it was - well, okay, not _quite_ - when she'd only gone down to make a hot chocolate.

Kirsty thought fast. Dad had confiscated Dani's mobile till tomorrow in case Will Smith texted so it had to be something Dani had seen outside - but how on earth was she going to find out what? That was when she had the brainwave. If only she'd thought of it when she and Jade had been climbing on each other's shoulders trying in vain to see out of the tiny high frosted window above the front porch! To her delight, the new viewing platform was perfect. Standing on the loo and poking her head out of the bathroom window had given Kirsty a far better insight into matters than she could ever have imagined. Although she'd had to wait till she heard everybody go to bed before she could make her next move...

But the rattling of a different window being opened froze her in her tracks like a cautious spider.

"Kirsty!" Dani exclaimed.

She had been startled to catch sight of a rapidly moving figure clad in jeans, jacket and trainers scaling the bathroom drainpipe opposite. For a crazy moment, she'd thought it was Will and at the same time wished it was Davey Molyneaux come to rescue a damsel in distress - because a damsel in distress, banished to the tower by her evil father, was exactly how Dani had romantically been thinking of herself as she cupped a long-drained mug of hot chocolate and gazed up at the storm-ridden night sky. But the momentary flash of faraway lightning as the Baystormer sought pastures new had illuminated the climber just long enough to recognise.

"Ssshhh! Back in a sec!" Kirsty called in a stage whisper, swiftly continuing the short remainder of her journey and dropping softly down on to the muddy grass to run to the front porch.

Her older sister watched curiously as she bent out of sight momentarily before she turned back and, jumping on the spot in triumph, grinned broadly and waved what looked like a gold envelope. Dani's heart thudded in anticipation. It had to be the letter she'd seen Will push under the front door earlier though she couldn't figure out how on earth Kirsty had managed to retrieve it.

Neither Dani nor Will knew that, in his haste to post the love poem and avoid coming face to face with the Mad Dad again, Will hadn't been very thorough in its delivery. Standing on the loo, eagle-eyed Kirsty had grinned to herself as she spotted the corner of the envelope peeking out. Although why it was in a _gold_ envelope Kirsty couldn't fathom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're a fool, Will Smith."

He couldn't figure out if she was laughing because she really thought he was or laughing because she thought he was sweet. Tentatively, he reached to touch that glorious head of red hair, to draw her beautiful face to his own, but with an impatient sigh, she pushed him away.

"I don't love you," she added, her words like ice. "I never will."

Why did those gorgeous gold-flecked green eyes seem to contradict what she was saying? Why did his heart hammer in his chest and his mind turn to mush whenever he was with her? As his kid sister Hayley was always telling him, he was rich, handsome, easygoing, he could have his pick of any chick in Summer Bay High so why waste his time? But the only girl he had ever truly loved was Gypsy.

"I mean it," he pleaded. "I'll always, always keep this poem next to my heart, Gyps, always, always in this gold envelope because, _I tell you no lies, o, sweet surprise! Gold flecks in green eyes..." _

Will was proud of the poem he'd written for her and fond of quoting it. The _'O, sweet surprise!'_ had been plagiarized from the school poetry book he'd flicked through while searching for inspiration but _'I tell you no lies' _and _'gold flecks in green eyes'_ was all his own work. She'd told him it was the worst poem she had ever read, he shrugged, unoffended, and said everyone knew English wasn't his best subject; she'd mocked it with two strangers she flirted with on the beach, he forgave her; she tore it into tiny pieces, from memory he produced a painstakingly handwritten copy. Was he a fool like she said? A doormat, like Hayley had called him? But what did you do, how did you cope, if you loved someone more than life itself? If their breath was your breath, if they could light the room with their smile or break you with their cold rejection?

"Don't do this to me! I hate you!"

She pushed him away again, more forcefully this time. But if she hated him so much, why was she crying? _Tell me that,_ he wanted to yell at the car drivers slowing down to watch and the passers-by who stopped to stare, _If she hates me so much, then why is she crying?_  
Irene Roberts had just got off the return bus from Pioneer Bay where she'd been to have her hair coloured and styled and was heading in Gypsy's direction but, engrossed in the new timetables leaflet she'd picked up from the bus station, totally unaware of her presence until Gypsy suddenly hurled herself into her arms, sobbing as though her heart would break. Startled though she was, Irene didn't ask questions. She never did.

Gyps had told him once, before their relationship had begun to get serious and they were just friends, that she always felt safe with Irene, which was why she'd chosen to stay and lodge with her here in Summer Bay after her parents moved to Yabbie Creek and her brother left home for Uni. Gyps reckoned Irene somehow had a kind of deep wisdom which had a calming effect on everyone. He knew what she meant. Back in the day, when Mrs Roberts had been dating Barry Hyde, the uptight principal of Summer Bay High and his best mate's Dad, the guy had never been more relaxed. And whenever he himself visited Gypsy at the Diner Irene was running in the absence of its owner Alf Stewart, he never felt tongue-tied or rambled like an idiot as he had done with every single one of his previous girlfriends' parents or guardians - and Will being a chick magnet that was a pretty long list!

But right at this moment he could only stand and watch helplessly while Irene stroked Gypsy's hair and hushed her, envious that _he_ couldn't give Gypsy the comfort she needed, aching with jealousy that she wasn't in _his_ arms.

"I don't know what's happened, lovey...uh-uh, I don't _want_ to know." Irene pressed a finger to her lips as Will opened his mouth to explain. "That's your business and for you guys to work out by yourselves. But give her time, hey?"

"I only told her I loved her, Irene." Choked with emotion, he looked up at the older woman, hurt and confused by Gypsy's heartfelt sobs.

"Give her time, Will," Irene said gently. "Time and space."

He nodded and, heeding Irene's advice, turned and walked away, eyes blinded by tears, heart heavy as a rock, hoping and praying that Mrs Roberts was right and time and space was all that Gypsy needed.

But tonight at Hayley's party Gypsy had sealed their fate. Tonight, just to get back at arch enemy Hayley, she'd seduced Kim Hyde, one of his best mates, and then, half-naked and in front of everyone, she'd draped herself around his other best mate Jack Holden, raining kisses on the nape of his neck, one hand unbuttoning his shirt, her other hand reaching downwards. Will had felt sick. He was worth more than that. He deserved better. Hayley and other people had told him so often enough.

So when a Gypsy look-alike with a stunning figure, glorious red hair and mischievous green eyes - but _heaps more _class - had made it clear she was interested, he'd acted like any red-blooded male would, and who could blame him? He was over Gypsy. Well and truly over. Dani Sutherland was high maintenance but she had every right to be. He didn't need Gypsy's mind games anymore. He didn't need her smartass answers or her constant flirting with other guys or her hard-edged contempt for everything and everyone... 

_...Or those moments of vulnerability that tore at his heart and made him love her and want to envelop her in his arms and keep her safe forever... _  
No, stuff Gypsy Nash! He'd do anything for _Dani_ now. _Anything._ Including giving her, in its original gold envelope, to match Gypsy's gold-flecked green eyes, the love poem he'd written for Gypsy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dani was yearning to read what Will had written, but she couldn't have her kid sister risking life and limb just to satisfy her curiosity.

"Kirst!" She hissed urgently. "You are NOT climbing back up!"

"Oh, yes, I am! You don't want Dad to see it, do you?" Despite the heavily falling rain, Kirsty had already begun shinning back up another drainpipe, this time the one that fed the old-fashioned wash-basin in Dani's bedroom.

"Kirsty!" Dani's hiss grew more urgent.

"It's okay, Dani!" Kirsty hated being told what to do and sounded tetchy. "I've done it before - the bathroom one anyway, after Dad grounded me over the hair colour and the pizza!"

Kirsty didn't elaborate and Dani, biting her lip with anxiety, didn't ask.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Will Smith was woken abruptly out of a deep, alcohol-fuelled slumber by slightly raised voices. He sat up and rubbed his stiff neck, wondering where the hell he was - until the overpowering smell of petrol, rubber and paint combined to launch a fierce onslaught on his nostrils and quickly remind him.

He blinked in the semi-darkness (an old rubber torch he'd found and stood upright nearby lent some light) as his vision gradually adjusted to assorted shapes and shadows and somewhere from the mists of sleep his memory filtered choppily back.

He had only just left the Sutherland property when the Baystormer began to end with a typical Baystormer finale: several minutes when rain fell so lightly that it barely touched, broken by several minutes of sudden deluges far faster and far heavier than anything that had gone on before - or _Splash and Bash _as kids who had grown up in the coastal towns where the notorious Baystormers frequently hit had long ago nicknamed it. Will had needed shelter fast and the Sutherland garage was more than happy to accommodate him, for, unfortunately for Rhys Sutherland, proud owner of the gleaming red car it housed and his wife Shelley, proud owner of the equally gleaming dark blue _smart little run-around _parked alongside, but fortunately for Will, its door had a mechanical fault, which meant it never quite reached the ground and left a gap just big enough for a body to slide through should a body be so inclined.

Will Smith had been one such body so inclined and grateful enough for somewhere dry and out of the rain but it had been freezing and uncomfortable sleeping on a cold, hard floor with only a car blanket for a bed, the crook of his arm for a pillow and the smell of petrol, rubber and paint for company. The same smell that was making him feel nauseous now. Crawling on his stomach and elbows to reach it, he arrived at the gap in the garage door and thankfully inhaled the free night air. But the night air brought with it too a sudden clarity and, grabbing the torch that he'd accidentally kicked over in his soldier-like manoeuvring, he scrambled quickly outside in a panic.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

If pushed for an answer, it's a safe bet that most people in Summer Bay would admit they didn't think Will Smith would win any awards for brains. And should any have had lingering doubts Will was about to dispel them.

Seeing the two figures at an upstairs window and aware it was Dani's bedroom (eyes teasing, she'd given him this information when they'd been slow-kissing goodnight on the doorstep) he shone the torch upwards, first dazzling both Dani and Kirsty with a beam bright as a movie camera, and then, guessing correctly by its colour the gold envelope Kirsty was handing to her sister to be his poem, he padded out the action drama he was obviously filming with sound effects.

"Dani, NO!" He yelled. "Don't read it!"

She looked at him for a moment, shared a glance with Kirsty, and immediately ripped open the envelope.

Why the hell had she done that when he'd specifically asked her not to? Jeez, chicks were hard work! Maybe she hadn't heard him through the pouring rain. It was the only explanation.

"I DIDN'T FINISH IT!" He roared so loud that his words scraped and burnt his throat. "I NEED IT BACK!"

Dogs barked in the distance. Jade, the quieter half of the two annoying kid sisters, appeared next to Kirsty at Dani's bedroom window, blinking in baffled sleepiness. Lights flicked on in what seemed like every room of the house.

But Will had eyes and ears for none but Dani. Oh, God, what _was_ wrong with her? She couldn't have _not_ heard this time yet she was still determinedly unfolding the page.

"HEARTS!" He cried, a desperate guy driven to desperate measures and desperate excuses. "I NEED TO DRAW HEARTS ON IT!"

The front door burst open dramatically and like a man possessed Rhys Sutherland came bearing down on him, Shelley racing after trying to stop him. For the second time that night, Dani's father grabbed him by the throat and in the struggle the torch clattered down on the path.

Rhys Sutherland spoke through clenched teeth. "Set foot near here again without my say-so, Smith, and I'll have you arrested so fast your feet won't touch the ground!"

"Rhys! Rhys, for God's sake!" Shelley remonstrated, determinedly pulling her husband back.

Will hardly noticed anyone. All he saw was Dani's face turning thunderous. She crumpled the page and hurled it down at him.

"I never want to see you again, you...you low-life loser!"  
The curtains were drawn across. The torch shone mockingly on the poem now smeared by mud, its words smudging and running into nothingness, shreds of soaking paper turning into tiny crumbled pieces.

But the eyes of Mad Dad had lit up and his face twisted into a satisfied smirk. "You heard my daughter," he sneered in delight.

A word of advice for the lovelorn. Should you ever write an ode to love wax lyrical all you will. But never, _ever_ begin your poem with the name of your ex. And be sure you are true to yourself when you tell your heart you no longer care for the one you loved so well before.

For as Will was left alone in the silence, the truth came to him that he'd only been fooling himself into thinking he could love anew, while a black sky wept for Gypsy and a wayward wind whispered Gypsy's name through the rivers and trees. But nothing could ever hurt so much as the pain of missing Gypsy still searing through his broken heart.


	36. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36**

**_written by I love music_**

**_Ideas and suggestions by Skykat_**

**Dreams**

_Hush now. Rivers will run with or without you or I to mind that they may or nay. Close your eyes and rest awhile. Sleep. The chattering streams still wind excitedly down the green mountains on their long journey out to the vast oceans and Mother Nature still spins the wheels of time. The warm kisses and tender buds of spring, the glorious burst of summer bright with her raiments of wide blue skies and flowers stretching far beyond the horizon, the autumn leaves falling, old, thin and withered now, but burnished brown, red and gold for all that, the snowflakes swirling and glittering in the pale winter sun. _

_The years pass by. We grow, we live, we love, but we never truly left yesterday's hopes and wishes and fears behind. Ah, mock the memories if you will, deny them if you can, laugh at the child you used to be. But when you're all alone and the night is silent, sit and see the moonlight filtering through the clouds. _

_And tell me then you never had a dream._

Hayley hadn't spoken a word since the fright. Cassie anxiously steered her indoors, her friend clinging so tightly to her arm that she winced in pain. Despite her reassurances that the ghost had only been someone dressed up as Lady Eleanor Hartwell, the White Lady who reputedly haunted Whitelady Woods, Cassie doubted Hayley had taken in a word. She was ashen-faced still and trembling like a leaf.

"Do you want something to drink?" Cassie asked uncertainly, suddenly out of her depth.

Outdoors, with Hayley so reliant on her, she had been strong but back here among the party crowd Cassie's new-found confidence upped and left her like a wraith. Hayley's crew had laughed at her far too often for it not to have left its mark and Cassie was only human.

"Do you want...anyone...?" Cassie tried when Hayley didn't answer. Cassie looked helplessly around.

For who, she did not know. Or should that be for _whom?_ Adam Kerr maybe. She frowned. Why was she worrying about grammar at a time like this? What did it matter if anyone laughed? Hayley needed _real_ friends with her right now. What use would creepy Adam Kerr be? Hayley might think he was the bees' knees but Cassie had never liked him or the way he'd pawed her the time they had gone to the movies, when she'd been so pathetically grateful to have a boyfriend that she'd actually agreed to a date when she actually despised him. Nor had she liked the way he'd looked her over tonight when she'd been wearing nothing but the bathrobe after she'd showered. Nope, Adam Kerr was the last person Hayley needed around, Cassie decided, gaining a new resolve as something made her forget her unease and stung her into action.

It was obvious nobody else intended to help!

Not a single one of the so-called "friends" that Hayley had so carefully selected to be her party guests. Or The Beautiful People, as she referred to her exclusive circle, who sneered at lesser mortals such as Crazy Cassie and who had received gilt-edged invitations bearing the only half-joking message in bold copperplate_"You, Being one of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly no Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies Party of the Year"_.

Cassie had only got to the party by default, because Martha "Mac" McKenzie had insisted on her being there and Hayley wanted popular, pretty Mac in her circle. She was well aware that she was scorned by the sophisticated. Yet the very same sophisticated were now too wrapped up in their own enjoyment, too busy laughing, talking, eating, drinking, dancing, pashing, too _shallow_, Cassie thought angrily, to let Hayley's being crook spoil their fun. They glanced at their hostess briefly, one or two looking quickly away and pretending they hadn't noticed anything amiss, most salving their consciences by muttering vague niceties about how they hoped Hayley felt better soon and it was a good thing Cassie was with her.

Several times Cassie was on the verge of blurting out "Yeh, right, because it means_ you_ don't have to be, doesn't it?" But she bit her tongue. No point in making waves. Hayley was in shock and it wouldn't do any good to disturb her further. She was a million miles away, her heartbroken gaze oblivious to everything and everyone. So lost, so sad, so lonely. And none of them cared.

"Maybe you should get some rest?" Cassie suggested gently, swallowing a lump in her throat, close to tears as sympathy overwhelmed her. No doubt Hayley's crew would say it was the sort of thing a dag _would_ do, pity someone who'd always treated them badly, but, stuff it, Cassie would rather be a dag than be a part of their false world.

Music boomed all around as they walked up the sweeping marble staircase and although she'd been inside Hartwell Mansion before (albeit a handful of times and then admitted with great reluctance by Hayley who would have had her wait outside except Martha strongly objected) Cassie caught a breath. The vastly wealthy Smith family had kept many of its stunningly beautiful original features when they'd purchased the mansion some six or seven years previously and with its grand marble staircase, magnificent chandeliers and the antique mahogany grandfather clock in the front hall gleaming in their glorious light, it was like stepping inside a fairytale. She could almost picture herself in satin ball gown and diamond tiara gliding elegantly towards her waiting prince, almost hear the waltz music and see the dancers...

A loud bang and swishing noise from outside jolted her suddenly out of her reverie and Cassie chided herself as she narrowly stopped them both from tumbling back downstairs. It was only fireworks - God only knew how and when they'd been acquired when fireworks were illegal - but someone had a whole heap of them and had been busy setting them off in the grounds.

"You okay, Hayles?" She asked guiltily.

Hayley stared at her blankly, not even seeing her, and Cassie shivered, wondering if perhaps she should have called a doctor. After all, she was hardly an expert in medicine, was she? What if she'd done untold damage by taking it upon herself to simply prescribe rest? And how the hell was Hayley meant to get peace and quiet in the middle of a _party _anyway?

But to Cassie's enormous relief, as if sleepwalking and seemingly unaware of Cassie's presence, the moment they reached her room Hayley let go of her arm, slipped fully clothed between the silk sheets and despite the noise, somehow, perhaps because of all the alcohol she'd downed earlier, perhaps exhausted by the shock, managed to fall into a deep sleep.

Cassie threw the duvet with its expensive hand-embroidered Italian cover over her friend's shoulders and, not liking to leave her alone, settled in the easy chair and, picking up the remote switched on the flat screen TV built into the wall, clicked on the new romcom channel, quickly pressing the mute button before it even had a chance to utter a sound. A movie flickered brightly into life as she gazed enviously round Hayley's bedroom. It wasn't the first time she had seen it; she, Martha and Hayley had even gossiped and changed here earlier, but the spaciousness and luxuriousness never failed to impress her and she couldn't help but compare it to her own tiny box-room at her grandmother's, wishing she'd been as lucky in life as Hayley yet knowing in her heart of hearts she wouldn't swap her Gran's love for all the money in the world. But it didn't hurt to dream, did it? Ugly and stupid as she was, she couldn't expect any guy to _ever_ fall in love with her - Cassie bit her lip, remembering what happened with her uncle and now Kane Phillips - but she could always dream. Dreams were all she had. All she would ever have. Well, she'd keep them. In dreams, nobody got hurt and everybody had happy endings. Not even Kane Phillips or her uncle could take away her dreams. Cassie turned her attention back to the TV screen and, gleaning from the sub-titles of the romantic comedy that the hero, a geeky toy factory worker, was pretending to be the factory owner to impress the heroine, a plain toy store clerk, who was pretending to own the toy store to impress the hero, Cassie kicked off her shoes, drew her knees up to her chin and was soon immersed in the story.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Molly watches. Oh, it's silly, when you're all grown up, to think she still does, but..._

_One hand raised as though in greeting, the beautiful ebony-coloured doll still sits on the book-shelf on the wall, on top of the three __My Best Fairytales books that have been laid flat on the end, her head askew, one side of her black hair loosely tied with five-year-old Hayley's favourite pink hair-slide. For her childhood room is just how she remembers the sunny afternoon her parents died, when Fiona, the lady who worked for DOCS, told little Hayley to choose three best toys to take away with them. Except it's dark and lit by moonlight now and the pile of freshly washed clothes have been moved from the bed to the little white dresser and there are still seven Barbies tumbled in the toy basket because this time Hayley, Freddie Teddy, Princess Barbie and Pink-and-Pretty Barbie never went away._

_But, as always in the dream, the night-cooled air steals in through the open window where the sky blue curtains are fluttering timidly in the breeze..._

_That early summer, sky blue replaced pink as her favourite colour, which had replaced yellow, which had replaced orange, because it was a summer of changes and growing and being __Hayley, not just Mummy and Daddy's little girl or Will's little sister or baby Nick's big sister._

_Her favourite colour changed to blue because of the blue butterfly that darted erratically around the garden before landing on her nose making her giggle with its tickling and Daddy, who'd been helping her plant freesia bulbs, said it was because her blue eyes were pretty as the summer sky and sky blue had always been his best colour. And down at the open-air market with her parents next day, a week or two before her favourite colour changed back to pink because it had always been pink __really as she explained gravely to Daddy so as to let him down gently, she chose sky blue curtains for her room while Will chose curtains that had pictures of red racing cars, and the plump curtain lady with the smudged lipstick and spectacles that hung down on a silver neck chain wrote down the measurements for the curtains to be altered and said they were both excellent choices as she offered Hayley and Will a toffee each (Nick was too young to eat toffee, Mummy explained to Hayley) from a crumpled paper bag, unaware the toffees had begun to melt until they stuck to their teeth._

_The bedroom curtains have been changed several times since then but again it's the turn of the sky blue that flutter with the moonlight and the air is perfumed by the fresh laundry smell of the clothes her mother has washed that morning but hasn't yet had time to put away. Because she got into a car with her husband, to slip to the store for a short while, they said. Except they never returned to collect Hayley, Will and Nick from Mrs Holland's where they were playing on the garden slide and splashing in the paddling pool and with Mrs Holland's two children._

_The fire was too hot, Will told her one day in the Children's Home, but Hayley didn't know what he meant, and she petulantly stamped her foot and told her seven-year-old brother he was stupid, __nobody carried fires in their cars, and she didn't like them being dead, why didn't they come back? Will put his hands on her shoulders and she opened her mouth to scream because she thought he was going to shake her. But he didn't._

_"It'll be okay, buddy," he said, using the nickname Daddy always used when she was upset, trying hard not to cry, and she was so shocked because Will __never cried and __never called her by Daddy's nickname that the scream froze._

_"I want them to come back, I want them to come back" she intoned instead, holding Freddie Teddy tightly to her chest, afraid of this alien new world. "I want them to come back, I want them to come back..."_

_But they never did. __Never. Until..._

_Oh, she's dreamed this dream so many times before! And at first she thinks it's a dream, like she always does, and it feels so real like it always does, but __this time..._

_She sits up, woken by the coolness of the breeze kissing her forehead and riffling through her hair, back in her old bed with Freddie Teddy cradled in her arms. As if knowing, she rests her chin on Freddie's soft head and looks to the window. Sure enough, the same voices carry on the shoulders of the night._

_"It's okay, buddy, we're back! Where are you?"_

_"Hayley! Hayley, it's us!"_

_She stifles a laugh, a silent laugh but, just as in the dream, she doesn't register the silence. Then._

_She shivers with happiness, at the Xmases-and-birthdays' excitement in Mum's voice, at hearing Dad calling her by the familiar nickname after all these years, she throws back the duvet, vaguely aware that her footsteps make no noise as she runs towards the tremulous fingers of moonlight that dance on the walls and glisten on Molly's face. She draws back the sky blue curtains. She can't see them, but they sound so close they must be just outside. She shouts back in answer..._

_But her words make no sound. Not a breath, not a whisper, not the smallest ripple disturbing the calm summer night. And her parents' voices brushed now with sighs float through the darkness, so near and yet so far away._

_"She didn't wait then."_

_"Why would she? She has a new family, a new life, plenty of cash. She's disowned us. "_

_"Nick and Will didn't."_

_"Hayley did though."_

_In desperation she pounds her fists against the glass, but her fists make no sound; with silent tears and silent screams, she says "I love you!" over and over but the words are buried too deep for even herself to hear, and all the while, just as they always did in the dreams, the beloved voices are growing fainter._

_"Hayley died a long time ago. See? She's already dead."_

_And as her parents' faint voices are heard no more, she looks down, and just like in the dream, she sees an ethereal white figure standing below the window beckoning to her until suddenly she is the figure beckoning, turning, running deeper and deeper and deeper into this dark fog of thick woods and muddy tangled bracken, further and further into the damned and the lost..._

_At last, too late, far, far too late, she finds her voice, gives a strangled cry as something grabs her arm..._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mac? You okay? You've been quiet a helluva long time. I'm gonna need to move soon."

To Kane Phillips' amusement, a gentle snore was his only answer. He tore his gaze away from the sky and craned his neck to check out Martha McKenzie instead. And he liked what he saw. When hadn't he? Droplets of sea spray glistening on that beautiful face with long lashes and full red lips, she slept as soundly as though she were safely at home tucked up in a warm, cosy bed, not stranded as they were on a tiny island in the middle of the sea.

But a sharp stone had been digging mercilessly into his shoulder blades for some time and the arm that had been cradling her head for so long ached to be free. Maybe though he could last out_ just_ a little longer. Besides he liked being so close to such a hot chick and the steady sleeping rhythm of her body against his aching arm. He smiled down at her serene visage and, at an awkward angle, reached out to tenderly tuck a stray piece of dark hair behind her ear. In an odd kind of way the night _was_ peaceful, with its sighing wind and rushing moonlit sea and they had found a shelter of sorts in a small cave, the damp, cloggy sand preferable at least to the hard, unrelenting rocks. They had with them too a supply of water collected from the freshwater pool, the Volvo bottle filled to its brim, as was some kind of deep, square plastic container that he'd also scavenged from among the rubbish that had been washed up on the shore, Martha's raging thirst soon winning out over her anxiety of what germs the items might contain.

Cold, hungry and exhausted they may been, but they were as comfortable as their reduced circumstances would allow and in the breath of the night the island was theirs alone.

The Baystormer had rolled way along the coast from Summer Bay and was busy attacking another coastal town, looked like either Pioneer Bay or Settler Point, its distance lending an eerie silence as it played out like some theatrical show for his sole entertainment, and he watched for a little while before the pain in both his arm and back eventually became too great. With a sigh of relief, he slowly withdrew his stiff arm from under Martha's soft, warm neck and pushed her body gently away, startled when warm, sticky blood suddenly began to gush forth from her right hip like a fountain. Jeez! What the ---- had she done to herself?

Quickly he loosened the waistband on her trousers to find out only to draw in a sharp breath as something sliced a deep gash into his thumb and made him turn his attention instead to unzipping her pocket where his hand first clasped round Hayley's long-dead mobile phone - and then pulled out the obvious reason for the bleeding. Why in hell's name had Martha McKenzie been carrying a _Swiss army knife _to a party?

But questions could wait. Copious amounts of rich red blood were pouring out from the wound and it was best not to take any chances. He dropped the bloodied knife and peeled off his shirt to make a tourniquet.

But the split second when he lost sight as he pulled the shirt up over his head was all the time that Martha McKenzie needed to raise herself to a half-sitting position and grab the knife, which she was now pointing straight at him.

Still holding the crumpled shirt in his hands, he stared at her in bewilderment.

"You sick, sick b-----d! Touch me and I'll kill you," she promised breathlessly, her eyes filled with hate, ignoring the blood drenching her hip and soaking the sand beside her like a river, although her face was white and her brow creased in pain.

"For Crissakes, what's the matter with you?" He yelled back, watching the knife, transfixed. The slightest wrong move by Mac and either of them could get hurt.

"I was a fool to give you a second chance. I promised my friends I'd deal with you," she added, fighting hard to find her breath with each word.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know what happened with Cassie and Hayley."

"Cassie and Hayley?" Phillips gave a short laugh, convinced this had to be some kind of joke. Sure, he'd made out with Crazy Cassie but it had been her idea and, sure, he'd given spoilt little rich girl Hayley a scare by pretending he wasn't going to let her go, but she'd been amusing herself by coming on to him and then treating him like dirt. "Mac..."

"_Don't you dare move!"_

The clear threat in her voice froze him. Waves rolled and crashed in the seconds an eternity passed between them. Her heart beating like a drum, she looked down at the knife, unable to believe what she was prepared to do. And, misreading the gesture, he made the big mistake of relaxing.

"Jeez, Mac, you know, for a minute there I really thought..."

His eyes widened and a strange shuddering gurgling emitted from his throat as the ice cold blade plunged into his bare flesh of his chest and he slumped helplessly forward.

_Sometimes, if they managed to sneak on board, he and his brother Scotty would hide in the ferry dunnies and cross the river from the slums and hell houses of Summer Hill to the richer, classier town of Summer Bay - not exactly a fun way to travel if the dunnies got smelly, as they often did, and there was the additional problem of how to get back without paying too, there being no certainty they'd make it past the security on the return trip. If the slow guy was on the tickets however it was a breeze. And there he was!_

"_Hey, there, Tommo!"_

"_Good to see ya again, Tommo!"_

_Tommo grinned his usual vacant grin at the two apparently friendly kids, his tombstone dentures way too big for his mouth, his innocent ice blue eyes wary. In his experience, kids especially kids this age (Scott was maybe twelve although with his sturdy build he could and often did pass for fourteen or even fifteen and Kane a cheeky, skinny nine-year-old) weren't always so friendly. Kids this age often laughed at or, at best, stared at him. Dogs growled suspiciously at his gait or snapped at his ankles. Unsympathetic people lost patience when he didn't understand and yelled at him. Life had taught him to expect the worst._

_Tommy Dixon was a gangly man in his mid to late forties who had been working on the ferries since he was seventeen but his name badge still bore the legend "TOMMY Dixon, Trainee", his employers deeming it wise should, as sometimes happened, an incident arose that Tommy was unable to deal with, in which case a colleague would quickly be despatched to the scene with the pacifying apology to any angry customer "TOMMY'S's just learning the job"._

"_Tickets please. If you don't have your tickets already you can buy them from me." Tommy carefully intoned the sales patter that he'd been taught from day one and which he rehearsed in front of the mirror at home where he lived with his elderly mother every time he put on his uniform for the start of each new shift._

"_Jeez, Tommo, ya forgot us already?" Scott Phillips pulled himself up to his full height like a man of the world. "WE don't pay!"_

_Tommo stroked his chin and gave a long, low laugh and as he always did when confused._

"_We're the captain's kids," Kane said helpfully. "Don't ya remember, mate?"_

"_Sure he does," Scott said. "Best give us our free tickets quick-smart, Tommo. Don't want ya gettin' in heaps with the old man now, do we?"_

"_D'ya think he ever gets it in the neck over us when they count the dough the end of the day?" A return ticket safely tucked in his pocket with a warning from Scotty he was dead meat if he lost it, Kane turned to look back at the simple-minded Tommo who was painstakingly counting coins into a very patient lady's outstretched palm. _

"_Who gives a flying ----? The bloke's doolally," Scott replied, and in the excitement of running up on deck Kane soon forgot his brief concern._

_One day he was gonna be a sea captain and sail his very own ship, maybe sail out to every ocean in the world. Nothing could beat the sea wind running through his hair and caressing his face like a mother, nothing could beat the music of the roaring waves and mewing gulls or the tugging of his heart for a dream he yearned to follow..._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_

"Kane...?"

Silence. Nothing but the roar of the wind and the sigh of the sea. Her trembling hands stroked his face as she wept softly. What had she done?

_Oh, hush now, safe and warm in the arms of sleep. Wheels of time still spin. Rivers will run and seasons begin anew. Let the stars climb the velvet sky and the dream tree shed its leaves down on to the quiet earth. Hush now. Let the dreams fall. Be still._


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

**SHOWDOWN**

"Kim." Barry's voice cracked even as he said his name. He rose like a man condemned and if he hadn't at that moment felt Irene clasp her fingers in his he would surely have broken down.

_Oh, God, son, please don't hate me. Please understand how much I've always loved you..._

"Tell me what, Dad?" Kim Hyde repeated. He came further into the darkened candle-lit room, slowly, uncertainly, his blue eyes bewildered, unwittingly bringing rushing back to his father's mind a tender memory of a long gone day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Hey, there, Kim! We're going to have heaps of fun at kindy while Daddy's at work, aren't we?" _

_A petite, pretty young Asian girl, her long dark hair struggling out of its pony tail and a splodge of green paint on the large waterproof apron she wore over jeans and a white T-shirt with the rainbow-coloured logo KindyKids emblazoned across, greeted them as pre-arranged while Barry stood talking to Debbie Rudd, the nursery school manager. Father and son had been given a tour of KindyKids the week before and while Kim had been to shy to join in with the other kids, he had taken a shine to Bonita and been fine if she stayed close by._

"_Go say hi to Bonita, Kim," Barry prompted gently, his heart snapping in two as he deliberately let go of the tiny hand clinging desperately to his own. _

_Alarmed to feel his hand being dropped, the little boy looked up at his father, bewilderment in his big blue eyes. His lower lip trembled and a fat tear rolled slowly done one chubby cheek. They had never been separated before and at barely two years old, he was way younger than many Australian kids were when starting pre-school. But KindyKids, the brand new premises that had opened within a short driving distance, had an excellent reputation and Barry needed to get back to teaching, both to keep up with the latest teaching methods and to keep his sanity. And although he tried to tell himself that he needed to return to work too in order to pay the bills that were threatening to engulf them, the truth was very different. No bill had ever yet been left unpaid. For several years, Barry Hyde had been using his sharp brain to successfully play the stock market and as a result was quite comfortably off - if he hadn't been, he never would have been able to afford such exclusive childcare. _

_He watched as Bonita stooped down to Kim's height and said something that made him look up with a timid smile at a picture of Scooby Doo, one of several large cartoon and fairytale characters that had been painted on the walls. And as she rose again Kim willingly stretched up to reach her proffered hand and gave another small smile as, reassured by Bonita's presence and obviously in response to her whispered suggestion, he turned to wave a farewell to his father. But for a moment a shadow crossed his young face again, bewilderment returning briefly to those questioning blue eyes, and nothing could or ever would stop Barry's guilt. _

_Because his child should have still had a mother._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why would I hate you?"

"What?"

He was drinking in every detail of his face. Savouring what might prove to be the very last moments he would ever spend with his son. That he resembled his mother Kerry so much twisted his heart with guilt at what he'd done just as it twisted with knife-like guilt every second of every day.

_I can never forgive myself but if you can never forgive me, then I crumble and I die..._

"Dad, you said "if I hate you". I heard you." He had reached him now. No longer a child, he stood taller, broader and stronger than his father and yet still with that same childlike trust in his eyes. "Why would I hate you?"

"I know I've been a huge disappointment to you," Kim continued brokenly, the yellow candlelight glowing on his soaking blond hair and catching the shine of raindrops on his face. "But I always wanted..."

"A disappointment?" Barry gulped back a sob and he wiped the pads of finger and thumb over his eyelids as tears threatened to blur his vision. "How can you even _begin_ to think that?"

The answer when it came broke his heart.

The son he loved, was so proud of, only shrugged matter-of-factly. "I know you've never thought much of me much, Dad, and I don't blame you," he said, devoid of self pity. "It's tough on you, you being so clever and me being so dumb."

"Kim, you're not _dumb_, as you call it, and I've only ever loved you!" Barry cried, yearning to clasp him in his arms as he might have done when he was a small child, but so many years had passed since then and he'd hidden his emotion for so long that he held back even now. Yet there was a chink in his armour. Irene. Irene, standing by his side, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath, the strength of her love. Hesitantly, feeling unmanly and uneasy at the gesture, he reached out and briefly touched Kim's arm and was rewarded with the flicker of an uncertain smile. And then, as always, both backed away from the other and became as strangers again.

"Kim, dahl, sit down. You too, Barry." Irene's calm voice came like a shaft of sunlight streaming in through the hubbub of steadily falling rain and silent storm of father and son's conflicting emotions.

"Your father has something to tell you," she added gravely. "Promise me something. Promise me you'll hear him out before you judge?"

"Sure, Irene."

Kim frowned, puzzled, as he obediently sank down. He had always liked Irene Roberts. Dad had been a different person during the brief spell they'd dated, open and relaxed, as if some great weight had been lifted from his mind. They had seemed the perfect match and Kim never did get to the bottom of why they broke up - though he knew it had something to do with Irene talking of having her recently-separated grown-up daughter and two small grandchildren come to live with her to help the daughter out financially. Nothing ever did come of the idea because the daughter and husband got back together but the damage was done. Dad was an enigma at times. For someone who'd devoted his whole life to teaching, he was never easy in the company of very young kids and when he _did_ have to spend time with any he would have the poor child jumping at their own shadow with his over-protectiveness, always terrified they might hurt themselves or eat something that made them crook or come down with heatstroke or measles or tonsilitis or a thousand and one other ailments. Irene would have calmed him down for sure, Kim thought, his brow clearing as a brand new thought suddenly struck him.

"Wait! Are you two hooking up?" He asked, grinning. "Getting hitched and moving away? Jeez, Dad, I wouldn't hate you for _that_, I'd be stoked, not about the moving away bit, the mar..."

"For pity's sake, Kim, will you _listen? _This has nothing to do with marriage!" Barry spoke more curtly than he intended, keen now to unburden himself of his terrible confession.

"Told you I was a thicko." Kim sighed, his gaze falling as his father realised it had so often fallen in dejection before. When he told him his schoolwork wasn't good enough or he hadn't improved on his swimming time or he needed to study night and day to stand a chance of passing even a single exam.

"Oh, God, son," he said, burning with guilt and shame. "What have I done to you?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_When he held his newborn son in his arms for the very first time, he felt a rush of love so powerful the force of it took his breath away. It caught him totally unprepared. Two years ago, after the tragic death of their infant son Jonathan tore out his soul, he had never thought he could ever be happy again. With this pregnancy, they had deliberately kept everything low key, almost afraid that if they announced it with the same razzmatazz as they had welcomed Jonathan into the world then Fate would seek them out and exact revenge. Family and friends were of course informed, but this time there was no half page advertisement in the local newspaper, no lavish party thrown to celebrate the news, no round of applause and bottle of champagne popped open in the school staff room, no specially-recorded jokey telephone answer-phone message left for delighted callers to piece together the cryptic clues. _

_But he hadn't bargained on his newborn son stealing his heart. _

_Ironically, just as with Jonathan, it was Barry who gave baby Kim his first bath when they brought him home. He had tried to persuade Kerry to share in the precious moment of bonding but she said she was exhausted since the birth and spent most of her time sleeping. It was natural, he thought, ignoring the niggling doubts that surfaced again at how Jonathan had died. How could he even think like that about his wife? Jonathan's death had been a terrible, terrible accident and nothing more._

_He carefully tested the water's temperature and then very, very gently lowered his precious child into the blue baby bath, and all the while talking soft, soothing baby words. He began tenderly sponging his son's soft, slippery body, a flood of emotion overwhelming him as Kim's mouth opened, his button nose wrinkled and he stared up at his father in wide-eyed surprise._

_And afterwards the new father sat, almost motionless, a drained bottle of milk beside him, his sleeping child, washed, wrapped and warm, cradled in his arms, silently thanking the God he had cursed when his firstborn died. Outside a wild night gathered hellbent on destruction, a banshee wind wailed and suicidal raindrops dashed themselves against the glass, but inside, safe inside, where the little lamps glowed golden and classical music lightly played, the curtains closed out all harm._

_He could hear Kerry moving about in the bedroom above, not the busy footfalls of someone with purpose but a desperate, frantic pacing. Just as she'd often paced too after the birth of Jonathan. Tiny alarm bells rang at the back of his mind but he left them to ring unanswered. Because how could he tear himself away from this perfect human being? All that concerned him was the child, the child who stirred now, snuffling and whimpering, the splash of a silver tear rolling slowly down one plump, pink baby cheek._

"_Ssh, shh," he whispered, rocking him against his chest. "It's only Mummy."_

_His baby son's eyes immediately flew open on hearing the familiar voice and snatched his father's heart all over again._

"_I would kill to protect you," Barry Hyde promised. _

_Why he felt the need to say it, he didn't know._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm sorry," Barry said hoarsely.

Kim shrugged. "No worries. It's all okay."

"No, it's not. It never has been. Kim, I'm...I'm sorry I never told you all this before. I was too much of a coward, the time was never right..." His choked voice fell to a whisper. "I was so afraid of losing you..." And then even the whisper trailed away and became so faint it was barely audible. "And I'm so afraid of losing you now..."

"Aw, c'mon, Dad, whatever it is, we'll be right!"

Finding himself suddenly in the strange new role of trying to console his father, Kim was at a loss how to even begin. He made to punch him on the arm like he might have done with a mate like Will or Jack, but their relationship had never been a physical one, never involved bear hugs or slaps on the back, and his clenched fist dropped helplessly back down to his side. They had only ever used words before.

But sometimes words were never enough.

A little while back, when the final whistle blew ten minutes after Davey Molyneaux had scored the goal that clinched the game and won Summer Bay High the school league championship, Davey's Dad had run on to the pitch, cupped his son's face in his hands and planted a long, wet smacker on his forehead. The guys ribbed Davey mercilessly about it for ages afterwards but Davey himself simply laughed. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last that his Dad demonstrated his emotion so openly.

And, though he never told anyone, Kim had been secretly envious of their easygoing father/son mateyness, remembering the time he had broken through some new swimming record and his own Dad had simply punched the air and said _"Well done!" _before resuming the coaching. Ah, wait, he _had_ told one person. She had understood. She always did. Funny how they were always drawn to each other.

Irene's arm slipped around Barry's shoulders and he held her close. "Irene, help me please. I can't do this on my own..."

She kissed his cheek. Oh, so tenderly, oh, so lightly, brushing his tears with her lips.

"Before you were born, Kim" she said gently, turning to him, her warm brown eyes full of sympathy. "Your parents lost a child."

"I know." Kim nodded solemnly. "Jonathan. Dad told me about it."

"What you don't know," Irene said emotionally and after waiting a while for Barry to speak, but his sobs were too heavy and he could only nod his assent for her to go on; "is exactly _how_ Jonathan died."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_His wife stood motionless at the top of the stairs, like a ghost in the thin grey light, and he raced up them, called from a late night at the school making preparations for tomorrow's annual parent/teacher day by her increasingly frantic phone calls._

"_Kerry! Kerry, what's wrong?"_

_She was carrying something across her outstretched arms. Jonathan's christening gown. Her eyes were glassy and a thin smile played on her lips though small tears rained down off her chin._

"_It's too late, Barry. Jonathan's gone to Heaven. I left him for just a moment and the angels came. I knew they would come tonight. We have to prepare him now."_

_He pushed past her into the bathroom, in a room still permeated by baby smells of oils and talc and creams, and saw to his horror the small, lifeless body floating face down on top of the bathwater. He scooped up his son and lay him tenderly in his lap, pressed his mouth over the tiny mouth and nose. He gave two slow, desperate breaths and searched in vain for a pulse. Nothing. _

_He placed two fingers on the baby's chest and pressed five times, so terrified of accidentally crushing those tiny ribs. And still nothing. Again he sealed his lips over the tiny mouth and nose. All to no avail. He heard an unearthly, wolf-like howl and realised it came from himself._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At last Kim spoke, breaking the long, stunned silence when the very air seemed to crackle with electric and the very night seemed to have lifted him body and soul and plunged him into somebody else's life. He absently rubbed the throbbing bruise on his cheekbone from when he'd had the fight with Jack over Gypsy. Barely a few hours ago and yet so long ago now that if it hadn't been for the physical evidence he couldn't have been sure if it happened at all.

"But you always said it was an accident..." His words spun into the harrowing emptiness and fell down into the loneliness of the night.

Barry Hyde, weeping openly now, his fingers locked in Irene's, drew a deep breath before he could answer. "It was what I wanted you to believe. It was what I _wanted _to believe myself."

Kim wiped a hand across his tear-moistened face, swept back his soaking hair. "Dad, why in hell are you doing this?" He asked with quiet sorrow. "Why are you making up these terrible stories about Mum?"

"Because it's true," Barry replied simply.

Kim stared at him, still unwilling to believe. "Jonathan's death was an accident. You always _told_ me it was!"

Barry swallowed. "I lied."

"I don't understand." He looked wildly from his father to Irene. "Why would you lie? Why would you need to?"

"Because I didn't mean to do what I did," Barry said heavily. "All I thought about was protecting you. She would have...she would have..."

He looked at his son. The son he loved so much he would kill for. He gripped Irene's hand tighter.

_Oh, God, Kim, please don't hate me..._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_The night would haunt him forever. The night and the moon._

_A cold wind rose from the sea the night he dug his wife's grave and through the cold wind came the mewing cries of his newborn son and the clank of metal on cold, hard ground sealing the evil inside him. The silhouettes of his sister Lorraine cradling her nephew and standing a little away from him, on the tiny mound of ground created by the newly discarded soil, suddenly seem as though they are on a distant hill, so far removed are they from he in their innocence._

_Panting heavily, he pauses to wipe the beads of sweat from his brow and look up at the accusing moon._

"_Hurry!" Lorraine urges above the faraway sound of the roaring sea. Her voice grows more urgent. "For God's sake, Barry, hurry!"_

_Yet for him there is no God. There is no hope._

_The wind whips strands of hair across her face. The baby whimpers and she soothes and whispers. She is still in mourning for her husband. Her brother and a heavily pregnant Kerry attended the funeral just a few weeks ago, consoling her by the side of the grave, supporting her when she was overcome by grief. Their own marriage had been childless. _

_Yet what would David have done, he wonders, if they had been blessed or cursed with a son or daughter and David had found Lorraine trying to drown their tiny, helpless child as Kerry had tried to drown Kim and drowned their firstborn before him? Would he too have been evil enough to wrap his hands around his wife's neck and push her down into the tepid bath water? Would he too have watched so unforgiving as her eyes bulged and her face reddened and bloated? Would only the child's screams of hunger have woken him from what he was doing when it was all too late and her body was limp?_

_The night would haunt him forever. The night and the moon._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You killed my mother?" Kim sprang to his feet, breathless and trembling, a myriad of emotions churning around inside him. "You killed her, you hushed it up, you buried her body?"

Barry spread his palms in a gesture of bleak despair. "I didn't mean to do what I did," he whispered. "I only wanted to stop her hurting you. I loved you so much. I couldn't bear you to be hurt."

"You said she was ill." Kim's voice wavered. "You said it was post-natal depression. Then why didn't you get help? For Crissakes, couldn't you at least have done that for her?"

"It wasn't that easy," Barry said throatily. "Don't you think I tried? Kerry wouldn't go to see any doctors. She said there was nothing wrong with her. And I...I tried to convince myself it was all in my imagination. There were days, weeks even, when she seemed fine."

"Please, dahl, try and understand the dilemma your father was in," Irene pleaded. "With some folk, mental illness isn't that obvious. And when we love _too_ much we see only what we want to see."

"All I understand is _he_ murdered my mother!" Kim was towering over him now, bristling with a raging fury that was alien to his placid nature. "Where was your compassion, Dad? Where was your conscience? If it was an accident like you say, why didn't you go to the cops?"

"If I had," Barry said sadly, "what would have happened to you? The only family was your Aunt Lorraine and she'd just lost her husband and been diagnosed with cancer and only weeks to live herself. There was no one else to turn to. I was terrified that they'd take you away from me and I'd never see you again."

"No, Dad." Kim shook his head emphatically. He had always had a simple childlike honesty unsullied by the intricacies of the world and to his way of thinking things were either black or white with no room for any grey. "Don't use me as an excuse." His looked down on his father with uncharacteristic scorn. "So now I know why we moved from pillar to post, why I was uprooted from home after home, school after school! It wasn't to do with your career, it was to do with you running from justice. And you know something? Maybe...just maybe..." For a brief moment the mask of scorn slipped as a wave of pity washed over his face and a sob caught in his throat; "I could've understood if you'd turned yourself in, if you'd had an ounce of remorse. Because you know what really galls me?" His voice turned harsh again. "How you dug her grave and left her there. How in all those years you never tried to put anything right. You're a murderer and a coward. Isn't _that_ the truth, Dad?"

The icy words pierced Barry's heart like a shard of glass and he fell against Irene sobbing helplessly.

The night was a friend. A cold, lonely friend, as much in need of solace as himself, and Kim staggered towards where it waited for him at the open door with its blessed cloak of darkness.

_Why? I picture her all alone. Was she cold? Did she feel anything in that harsh grave? Did you, Dad, did you? Unmourned, Unmarked unloved and I..._

Gathering all his strength, Barry raced desperately after him.

"Kim! Kim, please..." He reached for him, pulled him into his arms, but his son broke free, dusted the sleeve of his shirt as though his touch were poison.

"Don't you get it, Dad? I want nothing more to do with you!"

"Kim!" He tried again, a broken man, but Kim shoved him roughly aside and he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

"I have to go after him, Irene." With her help, he scrambled to his feet, and ran into the thick blackness.

"Kim! Kim, where are you?" He screamed, blinded by tears, but his solitary voice only echoed mockingly back at him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a while Kim stopped to catch his breath on the very same hill where a little while ago Noah and Kit and before them Jack and Gypsy had looked down to admire its panoramic views of the moonlit sea and Summer Bay. But Kim had no calm to quell his racing heart, no stars or moon to capture some brief light amid the terrible darkness. Far below a black sea rolled towards the shore and in the distance the Baystormer's flashes of lightning danced wildly through a tormented sky and here and alone he flung himself on the quiet, sodden earth and broke down sobbing heartbrokenly for the mother he never knew.

_I'm not very bright, Dad, but I do know how to love. You throw out unwanted shoes, broken crockery, crushed empty cartons. Was she unwanted, broken, crushed, Dad? There MUST have been a time when you could have stopped. She was weaker than you. I've seen pictures, all I have of my mother, a slim, frail woman, a breath of wind could have blown her over. I don't know all the clever things other people know. My schoolbooks are full of dog-eared pages and corrections. But I do know how to love. You didn't save me, you destroyed me. _

He closed his eyes and tried to think of what it must have been like for her to die on a windswept night and dumped in a grave by the person who was meant to have loved you most of all. Illogically, he felt tainted just by knowing he'd been there, guilt that he was the reason she died.

He clenched his fists and hurried on. To where? And the answer came almost immediately and the answer was stranger than all that happened this night.

She'd always been there. They'd often chatted, both of them on the fringes of all that was cool at Summer Bay High yet knowing that they never quite belonged. She'd smile in sympathy if his Dad found fault over some piece of work that he'd sweated buckets over, they'd exchange frowns when Hayley was bagging someone out, she'd walked through the crowded classroom just to squeeze his shoulder when she noticed him blanch, retch and wipe away tears the day they were shown the documentary about Canadian seals being killed for their skins, she never got the guys she hoped for and so at the school dances he would dance with her. Lost souls thrown together. Looking for someone they would never find when the person they had been looking for had been beside them all along.

She would understand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Long after the Baystormer had rolled away along the distant coast, the heavy rain pooled in the broken guttering still sought refuge and so slowly slithered along its diverted course on to the roof until it came to the tiniest gap where it dripped steadily down through on to the old wooden beams.

Irene looked up at the leak above the Diner entrance without the problem really registering. Barry and Kim could be anywhere. The night was dark as ink and it was probably wiser to stay in the Diner until morning brought its welcome rays of sunlight. She sighed heavily as from her shelter she vainly searched the immediate vicinity of the night with a solitary candle like an inn-keeper of old greeting tired, dusty travellers. The irony was not lost on Irene.

"You look like Wee Willie Winkie, matey!" She muttered. Then she sighed again. "Oh, Barry! I only wish..." She swallowed back tears.

"I love you," she whispered.

And, soundlessly, the first beam, softened and weakened by the hours of rain, began to splinter...


	38. Chapter 38

_A loud bang and swishing noise from outside jolted her suddenly out of her reverie and Cassie chided herself as she narrowly stopped them herself and Hayley from tumbling back downstairs. It was only fireworks - God only knew how and when they'd been acquired when fireworks were illegal - but someone had a whole heap of them and had been busy setting them off in the grounds. (Chapter 36: Dreams)_

**CHAPTER 38**

_**written by I love music**_

_**ideas and suggestions by Skykat**_

_**FIREWORKS**_

"Hey! How come they've stopped?"

Gypsy Nash sounded as though she had just paid for over a hundred dollars for a ticket only to be cheated out of the show. She was leaning alone against a crooked tree on the river bank, where she'd been craning her neck to watch the glorious shower of colourful sparks that lit up and then fell from the sky, cheering with each new swish. It was an odd kind of cheering however. If he hadn't known better, Jack Holden who, after very little persuasion from his three companions and despite his laughing protests he intended to be a fully-fledged cop _upholding_ the law one day (he already had a place at police training college in Melbourne for next summer provided he got the required grades) had been busy lighting rockets and sending them off on their final journeys, would have sworn she was crying.

Noah and Kit had discovered the box of illegal fireworks hidden in a shed at the side of grand Hartwell Mansion. They didn't say exactly why they had gone looking in such an out-of-the-way place and Gypsy and Jack grinned knowingly and decided not to ask. Especially as after initially being so keen to watch the fireworks they had strolled further and further along the river bank, lost in each other.

With Noah and Kit too busy pashing to notice the end of any firework display outside of their own, it was left to Gypsy to turn to ascertain the reason for the no-show. She cut a striking figure. Haunting was the word that sprang suddenly to Jack Holden's mind.

The flowing white wedding dress that she'd borrowed from Summer Bay High's drama department with the specific purpose of scaring Hayley to death, was soaked and mud-spattered yet its sequins still shone and glittered like diamonds while the intricately-laced bridal veil borrowed from same (against all odds on that storm-ravaged, muddy night having managed to somehow stay virginal white) which, during her impersonation of Lady Eleanor's ghost, Gypsy had chosen to wear as a jaunty scarf, was drawn down over her face.

The drama department's bonnet hung on the crooked tree's branch where last she'd thrown it, its ribbons dancing in the breeze, as Gypsy pulled back the wedding veil, allowing her magnificent red hair to tumble freely down over her shoulders, and, raising arms clad in the wedding dress's matching long gloves (alas, no longer white but grey) and, shielding her eyes to see through the moonlight, she looked enquiringly at Jack. Some of the luminous greasepaint that she'd painted on her face to add to the ghostly illusion had streaked and cracked and he was sure there were tear streaks running down. Pretty damn sure. Oh, but her eyes...those sparkling green eyes, they were so beautiful.

"Sorry, Gyps. That's the lot." He shrugged apologetically, wishing there _could _be more to make those beautiful green eyes smile at him again.

"Already? No way! You sure you've checked properly?"

Gypsy made to see for herself only for her foot to catch in the long hem of the mud-spattered wedding dress. A loud ripping noise ensued and sent her flying into Jack's arms and into an uncontrollable fit of giggling.

"Omigod, that sounded like...nope, I'm too ladylike to say it!"

Gypsy had celebrated her success at frightening Hayley with a couple of glasses of strong wine and this, plus the alcohol she'd consumed earlier, was taking its toll. The slippery mud made it difficult for Jack to steady both of them and made it seem as though they were performing a crazy kind of dance, which made Gypsy giggle all the more. The box that had held all the fireworks was kicked over in the struggle to stay upright and a solitary packet of matches coughed out.

"Rats!" Gypsy looked down in drunken disappointment. "Hey!" She frowned quizzically after seeming to think it over, looking back up at him. "Hey, Mr Cop, how come _fireworks_ got here in the first place?"

"Who knows?" Jack smiled because Gypsy was an amusing drunk. Or perhaps he smiled because in the end the only way to keep her upright was to clasp his arms around her soft, slender waist and she leaned her head against him as if she'd always belonged there. "Kane Phillips said something about making sure Hayley's party went with a bang though. And you know Phillips, he can lay his hands on pretty much anything, legal or not. Wonder where he's got to anyway?"

"Well, who the hell cares?" Gypsy's voice was muffled and tickling his chest. "He'll be breaking and entering someplace or dealing drugs or bashing some old lady..."

"Aw, come on. Give the guy a break. Even Phillips isn't into bashing wrinklies. You know, I think he could even be a half decent bloke given a chance."

"Whoo-hoo, get _you!_ What's the story, Morning Glory?" Gypsy teased, licking her pert lips, the usual flash of mischief returning to her pretty face. Jack only grinned. With his track record for the ladies, the one thing Jack Holden could never be accused of was batting for the other side.

Gypsy was about to add more, warming to her theme and in true Gypsy fashion determined to bait, except Kit interrupted with an intriguing invitation. "Guys! Come check this out!"

Noah and Kit were almost silhouettes in the moonlight by now, having strolled as far down as the old, disused restaurant that was on the fringe of the vast grounds of Hartwell Mansion and it was only the river that carried Kit's voice although she yelled so loud her throat was sore.

"Think you can make it?" Jack helped Gypsy swing around.

"Sure I can!" Gypsy's floppy-doll actions didn't back up her words however and her clumsiness as she ran into him had Jack only narrowly stopping himself from slithering backwards into the river.

"Sorry!" Gypsy exclaimed guiltily. "Ohhh...sugarplum fairy!" She added as she tried to reach out to help and wobbled uncertainly.

"Sugar _what?" _Jack took matters into his own hands and had her lean on him.

"Aw, it's what Irene says when she's trying not to swear. Everyone used to say it way back when. She told me once she had a boyfriend who's Mum thought she was common as muck and Irene was trying to impress at a family dinner only she couldn't saw through the roast beef and it slipped off her plate and sent gravy and peas flying over snobby Mum's lap so Irene said sugarplum fairy only the old bat thought she was insulting her and threw her out of the house. Irene swore then alright! I've never been so happy in all my life!" She added, spluttering with laughter.

"Then why are you acting like your heart is broken?" Jack asked quietly.

"I am not!" Gypsy protested vehemently. "I am _not_, Jack Holden!"

She looked down at the thick brown mud though and didn't say anything else.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Jeeezus!" Will Smith did a double take as he unexpectedly came across the silent figure already sitting there. "What the ---- are _you_ doing here?"

Kim Hyde glanced up briefly and returned to watching the swaying moonlit river overlooking the harbour. "I could ask you the same question."

He sounded edgy. Probably still be sore over the blue they'd had last time they'd spoken tonight when Kim had stormed off after he flatly refused to hook him up with his sister Hayley, Will figured.

"I asked first. Barley?" With a grin, he made the crossed fingers sign that had always accompanied the expression which called a truce to games when they were kids.

Kim only shrugged in answer and Will, after a moment's hesitation, sat down beside him on the bench overlooking the river bank and sheltered by the spreading branches of a benevolent old oak tree, one of several benches with a view situated at designated spots along the river, which were provided for hikers who often followed the trail that eventually led to Whitelady Woods and out to either the picturesque rolling hills of Summer Bay or to the equally picturesque cliffs. Where he'd been planning to sit anyway but in the original scenario played out in his head it had been alone.

"Okay, I'll start. I've just been dumped by the sexy Dani. _Not_ cool. But it was the wake-up call I needed to make me realise Gypsy Nash is the only chick I ever loved or ever will. So I planned to sit here awhile before I head back to my kid sister's party to figure out exactly how I'm gonna get back with her. Because I swear to you I will. Or I'll die trying."

Will Smith, who normally treated everything as a big joke, had never spoken more sincerely in his whole life. Even Kim, lost in his own thoughts of a night that had yawned and stretched and thrown up its secrets, looked up in surprise. A thread of guilt twisted through him.

"Man, I'm really sorry about what happened with Gyps and me tonight. _Really_ sorry. I was drunk, I was mad at Hayley, Gypsy was...I guess there aren't any excuses." He finally admitted, his voice dropping. "I know it's one helluva big ask but..." Kim bit his lip, uncertain what Will's response would be. "Shake?"

Will swallowed and, if truth be told, fought back a strong urge to punch him, to draw some satisfaction in drawing blood. He had taken it easily enough before when Gypsy seduced his friend as she had seduced so many guys before. Or thought he had. He'd been fooling himself when he told himself he didn't give a stuff about her anymore. But if he owed Kim he owed others. And he knew all too well that Gypsy had been playing games both to spite her arch enemy Hayley and to prove to Will that she didn't need him. With a rare clarity, as though the fresh breeze of the river had breathed some new magic into his heart, Will could suddenly see the truth that had been there all along, waiting for a tangle of emotion to be unravelled. Gypsy didn't love herself enough to believe she was worthy of being loved. So it was up to him, the guy who loved her, to make her see that she was, wasn't it? He reached out and magnanimously shook Kim's hand.

"Though if it ever happens again," he promised, only _half_ joking. "You're a dead man."

"It's never gonna happen again," Kim replied solemnly. "I don't do the dirty on mates."

Will nodded, still puzzled by his sombre attitude. Whatever had happened, he wasn't himself and he didn't seem prepared to talk about it anytime soon. Somehow he knew Kim would fob him off with the answer but still he asked.

"Sooo..._I_ 'fessed up. You still haven't said why you're here?"

Kim shook himself. Where to begin? Where did anyone begin when they'd just learned that their mother had deliberately drowned their brother then tried to drown them? That their father had murdered her and buried the body? There was a storm brewing up inside him and he didn't know how to deal with it. But if he was going to tell anyone, he needed more than a mate. No, if he was going to confide in anyone, it was going to be Cassie Turner.

"I need to get my head together before I see Cassie," was all the information he volunteered.

"_Cassie? _As in _the_ Cassie?"

His friend was immediately on the defensive. "I just need to talk to her," he said testily. "And she isn't crazy like everyone says."

"I never said she was." Will grinned his trademark broad grin. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to get together, s'all. Wow! _Cassie!" _He slapped him on the back and Kim gave a small smile.

"That obvious, huh?"

"That obvious to all but you guys," Will confirmed. He was about to say more when something floating on the river caught his attention. "Hell! There's someone in the water!"

But Kim, coached by his father to be a swimmer of almost Olympian standard, had already kicked off his shoes and dived into the icy river. Will quickly scrambled down and waded in after him to help drag the soaking, heavy body onto the grassy bank. He fell down, panting, to regain his breath, and it was only as Kim turned the man over that he saw his face.

"----!" Will said. "It's..." He didn't need to finish off the sentence however.

Kim didn't yell. If anything, he was strangely calm. Frighteningly calm, Will thought, especially considering the identity of the person he'd just pulled out of the water. Maybe it was because, as an expert swimmer and volunteer lifeguard, he had regular first aid courses and had practised CPR a thousand times before. Maybe it was because last summer he'd saved the lives of two kids who'd got a little out of their depth and had only blushed and hurried away from the gathered crowd's praise, insisting he'd just been doing his job.

The man's eyes flickered open briefly before fluttering closed again. Long enough to recognise who held his life in his hands. Long enough for Kim to decide in that moment whether or not he hated his father enough to take a fitting revenge for his mother's death...

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Like I said way, way back in this fic ONE person dies - Hayley, Martha, Kane, Irene, now Barry...? Keep guessing! ;)


	39. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

**WHITELADY WOODS**

**_written by I love music_**

**_ideas and suggestions by Skykat_**

"What's it say?" Kit asked curiously, as Gypsy and Jack finally caught up with them by the cherry tree, where Noah knelt, busy wiping away muddied dead leaves and twigs from a brass plaque embedded in the ground.

"_The Smith family. Never forgotten," _Noah reported, squinting down at the words and rubbing away some more debris. _"The Smith Family. A New Beginning. April 2_...can't make out the rest but I figure it'll be the year they moved here." He rose cautiously, dusting the wet soil from his jeans, a sharp pain reminding him that it hadn't been such a good idea after all to bend the knee he'd injured in the big footie game last week.

"Planting a tree to commemorate moving to Summer Bay. If it'd been anyone other than Hayley, I'd have though it was sweet," Kit remarked to Gypsy, who hated their arch enemy with equal venom. "Knowing Hayley, it was probably just a photo-shoot opportunity."

"_Pur-leeze! _Miss Piranha and sweet do not belong in the same sentence. Stupid jerks! It sounds like a bloody memorial not a house move," Gypsy sneered, unaware.

Only the trees of Whitelady Woods knew and they chose to whisper their secrets to none but each other.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Glints of golden sunlight threaded their way through the newly-blossoming trees and tiny buds of spring poked their heads in awe towards the snow-white clouds dotting the April sky as the little family group, George and Julie Smith and their three adopted kids, thirteen-year-old Will, eleven-year-old Hayley and Nick, the youngest, eight years old, held each other's hands and encircled the cherry tree sapling they'd planted._

"_I feel like a dag," Will Smith protested, although he was grinning._

"_That's because you ARE a dag," his kid brother Nick said, hoping for a rise._

_But nothing ever ruffled Will's feathers and he only laughed. "Thanks heaps, bro!"_

"_Come on, guys." George Smith chided, uncertain whether or not his sons were joking and concerned his wife might be upset if her idea were shot down. Ever since he'd known her, way back in high school as Julie Fleetwood then and blinking from behind bottle-thick spectacles, she had been a dreamer._

_Julie's long, rambling stories and poems were legendary and not just in English classes - once for History she had even managed to produce a tragic romantic tale set with the backdrop of the first world war (Australia's role in the first world war being the set topic). And back in the late Sixties, when they'd been around fifteen and being a hippy was fashionable, desperate to be part of the in crowd, for a little while she had cut classes after gaining her attendance mark, crammed her uniform into her school bag, kicked off her shoes, unpinned her hair, worn long, flowing skirts and tried - in vain, coughing until she was sick - to smoke pot like the other rebels. The bohemian image lasted no more than a handful of weeks, the in crowd still ostracized her, nobody took much notice except to giggle or pass some sarcastic comment, and, sadly concluding she'd never fit in and would never meet the guy of her dreams, blissfully unaware that shy, geeky George Smith was madly in love with her and her quirky ways (though it would be another five or six years when they accidentally re-met at a Uni party that he'd find enough courage to tell her so) she went back to her studying and weekends returned to the denim and trainers that she felt far more comfortable in anyway._

_But the one thing she had embraced about the hippy culture had been its peace and love philosophy. It was so like Julie, George thought affectionately, loving her all the more, to arrange for the family to gather in memory around the new young tree they'd planted, and as a further surprise ordering too a brass plaque engraved with a message that commemorated the kids' parents' deaths - without it actually mentioning them being dead!_

_And so it was that a smiling sun found the family here in Summer Bay, the pretty little coastal town they'd moved to a week or so ago, a world away from the smoky, grimy city where George had built up his hugely successful property development business and which had earned them enough money to buy Hartwell Mansion, the vast grounds of which they stood in now to gather around the spindly tree._

"_Nah! Seriously, it's a cool idea." Will smiled up at his foster mother. "Thanks. I love it."_

"_I'm glad," Julie Smith returned the warm smile, and shook her head in amused warning at Nick, the clown of the family, who was pulling exaggerated faces at his older brother behind his back._

_They may not have been her real sons (Julie and George were unable to have children of their own) but she had bonded with Will and Nick from the moment they met and, even though Smith was a common surname, told herself the fact the kids already shared the same surname as herself and her husband had to be more than mere coincidence - it was meant to be. If only, she sighed inwardly, she could have felt the same way about Hayley. It was six years now since they'd officially adopted the three kids after their parents had been killed in a car crash and Julie still didn't feel she knew her daughter - or even liked her very much._

_Years later she was to overhear Hayley's friend Martha accuse her of acting like some kind of ice goddess (Julie wasn't sure why, but it had been raining heavily all afternoon and she suspected Hayley was snobby enough to not want their other friend, shy, gawky, Cassie, whom Julie liked immensely, inside the house) and thought the description fitted her perfectly. In fact, if she hadn't heard Mac, as the girls called Martha, tearing a stip off her adopted daughter, she'd have broken her own rule about not interfering in the kids' friendships, and stormed into the war of words herself, blazing with fury when Hayley snootily told Cassie, who was wearing boots, she would trail muddy footprints all over the luxury carpet and that she not only sounded like a clod-hopping horse but looked like one too._

_From the moment she had come to live with them, and unlike easygoing Will and Nick, Hayley had treated their staff and the employees of George's company, in fact anyone who lacked money, as second-class citizens. It brought back unhappy memories of Julie's own childhood, when better-off kids laughed because Mrs Fleetwood was often to be seen rummaging through clothes at charity shops or buying groceries in cheapo store Pennywisebuys (there were persistent rumours in the schoolyard that the supermarket put chopped rat in their meat and dead ants in their bags of currants) and who couldn't seem to grasp that because her mother was a full-time carer for her disabled husband there was very little money left for treats for Julie and her autistic brother._

"_I didn't want it to be a sad occasion," she added hopefully, the early years of unacceptance occasionally tainting the self-assurance that had come with age and wealth._

_Hayley said nothing but only held Will's hand tighter._

"_The Smith Family Never Forgotten - The Smith Family A New Beginning." As the eldest, Will had been tasked with opening The Memory Window, as Julie had named the impromptu service, and he read with a solemnity befitting the occasion. Then George lifted the box of rose petals his wife had brought and each took a handful from the box and scattered them down on the grass while Julie recited the Mary Frye poem as they watched the petals scatter through the light morning breeze and over the verdant land._

_Do not stand at my grave and weep,_

_I am not there, I do not sleep._

_I am in a thousand winds that blow,_

_I am the softly falling snow._

_I am the gentle showers of rain,_

_I am the fields of ripening grain._

_I am in the morning hush,_

_I am in the graceful rush_

_Of beautiful birds in circling flight,_

_I am the starshine of the night._

_I am in the flowers that bloom,_

_I am in a quiet room._

_I am in the birds that sing,_

_I am in each lovely thing._

_Do not stand at my grave and cry,_

_I am not there. I did not die._

_A burst of birdsong broke the air, bringing the pretty little ceremony to its natural close, and Will's gaze fell mischievously on the long disused restaurant._

"_You guys hear this place is haunted?" He remarked innocently._

_Once reached by winding steps at the end of the harbour and hugely popular, the restaurant had closed down some forty years earlier, when it was discovered that the late eighteenth-century building, originally an exceptionally large glass summerhouse and part of the vast Hartwell estate, stood on water-logged land. Empty and abandoned now, even the most cynical say there is something unnerving about the way the whispering trees of Whitelady Woods cast wavering shadows on its broken, silent windows and some claim it even holds an air of watching and waiting._

_Over two centuries, there have been many sightings of what is believed to be the ghost of nineteen-year-old Lady Eleanor Hartwell, the White Lady, after whom Whitelady Woods takes its name, and who, jilted on her wedding day, drowned herself at this picturesque beauty spot in 1780. A superstition that her sighting foretells death has grown around her, one of the most widely quoted stories of more modern times being Hallowe'en night 1974, when three police officers, called out to investigate a suspected arson attack, followed what they thought to be a teenage girl in costume for several minutes only for her to disappear into a wall! One of the officers would later die in a holiday skiing accident and, only weeks after the sighting, his two fellow officers were involved in quelling a prison riot in Melbourne, one being shot dead and his colleague sustaining fatal injuries. Ghosts and Legends of Summer Bay points out however that the skiing accident took place eight years later and suggests the myth may have its origins in the fact that two days after Lady Eleanor's suicide the church roof collapsed in the nearby village of Rushton (no longer in existence) tragically killing nine of the congregation, the hill upon which the church stood overlooking the river where Lady Eleanor drowned. (A separate chapter deals with reported paranormal events in this area.)_

_Whatever the truth of the matter, Will, as usual, only had hold of half a story but that still didn't stop him telling it._

"_Yep, it's true!" He continued, now that he had everyone's attention. "A grey lady comes out of the river, gnashing her teeth and wringing her hands (Will supplied the actions) and goes into the restaurant."_

"_Hungry," Nick commented, nodding his head knowledgeably. It wasn't a particularly funny remark but Nick, a born entertainer, delivered it with perfect comedy timing and George roared with laughter._

"_That's nonsense, Will!" Julie frowned, feeling it somehow tainted the memory of their biological parents to discuss ghosts and hauntings immediately after a celebration of their lives. And the talk moved on to other things, the clouds sailed on by, the grass quivered in the quiet breeze, the fleeting conversation soon forgotten._

_But not by Hayley. She stood a few moments longer than the rest, oh, such a short while so they'd never know, pretended to fix her hair and so convincingly that Julie and George exchanged amused but exasperated glances, silently asking each other if their conceited daughter would ever tire of gazing at her own reflection and preening herself._

_Hayley swept back her hair to give herself time to hide silent tears and shivered as she looked down into the swirling sunlit river where her reflection swayed like an ethereal ghost, where Lady Eleanor had drowned so long ago. One day she'd see them, wouldn't she? One day he real Mum and Dad would come back. And she wouldn't be on her own anymore._

_She'd made her brothers promise they would never tell anyone in Summer Bay that the three of them were adopted and she trusted Will implicitly but she wasn't so sure about Nick. He wouldn't tell anyone deliberately of course, but Nick loved to talk and his tongue often ran away with him. Fortunately he'd always wanted to go on stage and there was an exclusive private school in Yabbie Creek that specialized in drama (its most famous student, Oscar winning Hollywood actress Roxanne Barber, had graduated from there) which took pupils from aged eight and which had agreed to enrol him. Without Nick being around in Summer Bay too much to blurt out her secret, she might fit in at Summer Bay High. She was beautiful, all she had to make people care about her, but if they thought she had been born into wealth too, maybe..._

_Maybe somebody else in the whole wide world besides Will would love her like her real Mum and Dad used to._

_Oh, sure, Nick did in his own way, but Nick was just a little kid. He was too young to even remember their real parents; to Nick, they were almost fairytale characters that he'd heard of but didn't believe in anymore. No, there was only Will to share the precious memories, only Will who understood how much they'd loved them. But, like Nick, Will had his own friends. Hayley had her looks and that made people admire her but looks weren't enough to make them like her. If they thought she had been born into this vast wealth though, had always had cooks and maids and Daddy's employees to lord it over, she'd have friends too. Wouldn't she? And then she wouldn't feel as Lady Eleanor must feel if her ghost really did haunt Summer Bay._

_Aching with loneliness, always, always, always on the outside looking in_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gypsy dug her heel into the ground once more, feeling a grim satisfaction surge through her as she trampled mud and grass over the brass plaque that commemorated the Smith family.

"Wuss!" she grinned up at Kit, who had backed off after a cursory kick or two, more in a show of solidarity against the common enemy aka Hayley Smith, than in revenge.

Kit only shrugged and nestled against Noah. She could afford to be generous tonight, warm and secure as she was in his love. But Hayley had bagged her out heaps of times over her alcohol addiction even though Kit never touched a drop these days. She was all for her friend taking payback.

What Hayley had done, putting a secretly-taken blown-up photograph of Gypsy naked, with the word "Slut" written across in lipstick, up on the wall of Summer Bay High for all to see, Gypsy would never forgive her for. Fortunately she, Jack, Noah and Kit had discovered it before school opened on Monday and Gypsy had ripped the picture to snowflake-sized shreds. She was well aware of the message it sent. _You're garbo, Gypsy Nash, you always will be._

Gypsy kicked the plaque again, so hard it hurt, but she hardly noticed. She had always known she'd been adopted by Joel and Natalie Nash, but she had imagined caring, loving parents who had simply been too poor to keep her and who she'd hoped to trace when she was older. But her hitherto tranquil, happy world had been turned upside-down and a storm unleashed inside her at eleven years old that terrible day at Summer Bay High a classmate had told her the truth. When last year her older brother Tom left for Uni and the Nashes moved to Yabbie Creek, Gypsy had insisted on being allowed to stay with Irene Roberts in Summer Bay and Natalie and Joel Nash, by now tearing their hair out at how best to deal with their wild daughter and relieved that Irene was willing to take on the challenge, agreed.

Gypsy's tragic background, that she'd been abandoned as a baby and left, trussed and naked, on top of jagged cliffs in a searing sun, where she would have surely died if she hadn't been found by chance by three small boys cutting school, was no secret at Summer Bay High nowadays - Jodie Beamish's Mum had worked at the hospital where Gypsy had been taken to and Jodie Beamish had blabbed long ago - but it was considered taboo to mention it. But not by Hayley apparently. Nothing was too low for bitchy Hayley Smith to stoop to, was it?

She gritted her teeth and viciously attacked the plaque once more, the harrowing pain of never knowing who she was, of who left her to die and why, at the cruelty done to her at so tender an age, far beyond words or understanding.

Jack caught hold of her elbow. "Gyps. Don't do that to Hayley. Please?"

"Why not?" Gypsy demanded, with a toss of her fiery red hair. "_I_ destroy everything, don't I? Ask anyone. They'll tell you Gypsy Nash destroys everything _and _everyone she touches. And Miss Piranha deserves everything she gets!"

He was about to reply because she was vandalising someone's property. But he found himself saying something strange instead. Words that popped into his head from nowhere. "Because it's not in your eyes."

She gave a small smile. "And what exactly does that mean, Holden?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"I guess it'd hurt Will and Nick too," she said, sobering suddenly, and in a quiet, pensive tone so unlike her usual über-confident self. "And their olds. _They_ don't deserve to get hurt. Only Hayley."

"Nobody in life deserves to get hurt. They just do," Jack observed sadly, lost in his own thoughts. His mother had walked out on his father when Jack and his younger brother were small children and had never made contact with any of them again. So Jack did the same to chicks. Love 'em and leave 'em Holden, they called him. But tonight at Hayley's party things had changed. Jack had always slept with every chick he could and Gypsy had always slept with every guy she could, yet some deep emotion of the night had reached out and touched them, drawing them together like magnets to find a companion in each other. They had even made a pact that would have been alien to them not so long ago: to take things slowly, simply, friends instead of lovers.

"You know, it's weird how all four of us came from dysfunctional families," Jack continued. "Sorry, Gyps, I didn't mean to..." He looked up in sudden guilty realisation.

"S'okay," she said, as his voice trailed off. His arms were around her waist, Gypsy somehow having fallen backwards into them as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and she reached up and stroked his face, the gentle, caring Gypsy rarely seen, the Gypsy Will Smith loved, to reassure she wasn't offended. "Anyway, I'm living with Irene Roberts instead of my olds and my bro so I guess I'm still hanging dysfunctionally on in there!"

"Summer Bay seems to haves heaps of dysfunctional families," Kit observed wryly. "It's like soon as people set foot here, marriages break down, couples split up, affairs happen. You guys ever read about Lady Eleanor's curse in _Ghosts and Legends of Summer Bay_? Maybe we should contact the publishers and tell them there's a curse here too on falling in love!"

"I hope you're joking!" Noah said with mock severity.

"'Course I am!" She looked up at him, eyes twinkling, dimples dancing, mouth twitching at the corners. "Shall we tell them, Noah? I'm dying to!"

Noah kissed her, grinning. "I guess we should. We were going to tell our dysfunctional families first, but you guys are good friends." He glanced at Gypsy and Jack before turning back to Kit, waiting for her to speak, his eyes shining with so much love that Gypsy felt a harrowing pang of envy shoot through her body.

Kit licked her lips, savouring the moment, the splashing of the night-time river echoing through the waiting silence of the night. "We're getting engaged!" She announced breathlessly.

The aching emptiness swept through Gypsy again, but, an excellent actress, she squealed with delight, hugging and kissing everyone, as excited as a child.

"Congrats, Kit! Half your luck, mate!" Jack kissed Kit on the cheek and pumped Noah's arm.

"Thanks. I'm the luckiest guy in the world," Noah said, laughing as Gypsy twirled Kit round and into the barn dance from Summer Bay High's last end-of-term musical comedy, and which had become a short-lived craze in the school last year whenever anyone had good news.

Perhaps the elderly elm, a grand old man being the first tree as he was of Whitelady Woods and bearer of many sweethearts' initials over the years, objected to all this attention apparently being bestowed upon the young upstart cherry tree, for he took advantage of a gust of wind from the river to shake the accumulated raindrops from his mighty branches, drenching the four friends.

"Damn, not a Baystormer boomerang!" Noah mistakenly attributed the soaking to the rare phenomenon when a Baystormer, blown by the wind, would double back on itself, as they hurriedly raced up the chipped stone steps to make for the wide porch of the abandoned restaurant, its brickwork ivy-covered, its fancy tile-work cracked and its windows broken, but a welcome shelter for all that.

But another already sat atop the steps, the heavy oak door banging at regular intervals behind her, where she had remained ever since her conversation with Kim Hyde.

"Megsy!" Gypsy cried in delight.

Megan Ashcroft smiled and put back in place the wide-brimmed hat that Gypsy had tilted with her drunken, enthusiastic hug. Megan was a loner, receiving the gilt-edged invite to Hayley's party by virtue of her renowned psychic abilities and being an accomplished artist. But Megan was also self-sufficient, needing no-one but her one true love, Tony Lombardi, a gifted musician who was temporarily away at a music academy. She managed to never became involved in the gossip or petty squabbles of Summer Bay High and yet managed to be loved by all. Even Hayley had never knowingly said a bad word about her.

"Congratulations, Kit. Congratulations, Noah." Megan leaned forward to kiss each on both cheeks, a Continental habit she had picked up from her half-Italian boyfriend, her beautiful and unusual eyes, one green, one brown, sparkling with joy. "You all shouted it loud enough." She answered the unspoken question in Gypsy's expression. "Loved the firework show earlier, Jack!"

"Awesome outfit, Megs!" Gypsy grinned as, without malice, she looked her classmate up and down.

Megan's style was unique. She had teamed the hat with a green, high-necked, puff-sleeved blouse, a long, green necklace, several cheap, chunky bracelets and baggy black trousers, all purchased from her favourite second-hand clothes shop in Settlers' Point, as many of Megan's fashionable items were.

"Oh, I dunno. Looks like I've got serious competition," Megan replied, accepting the words as they were intended, in good humour, and taking in Gypsy's own apparel, the generally ripped and mud-spattered wedding dress, veil and gloves that she'd borrowed from Summer Bay High's props department to frighten Hayley with her Lady Eleanor's ghost impersonation, Megan diplomatically choosing not to reveal to her companions that she had actually seen Lady Eleanor's ghost, the foreteller of death, this very night.

Megan's grandmother, from whom she had inherited the gift of second sight, had told her that messages would often come unexpectedly and this fact was borne out now. A picture flashed suddenly and with startling clarity into Megan's mind as an overwhelming sadness enveloped her in its arms. A dark, moonless night, a black river, a weeping bride. The bride turns and lifts her veil.

The face is Gypsy's.

_Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep © Mary Frye_

_Ghosts and Legends of Summer Bay © I love music_ ;)


	40. Chapter 40

_Kim didn't yell. If anything, he was strangely calm. Frighteningly calm, Will thought, considering the identity of the person he'd just pulled out of the water. Maybe it was because, as an expert swimmer and volunteer lifeguard, he had regular first aid courses and had practised cpr a thousand times before._

_The man's eyes flickered open briefly before fluttering closed again. Long enough to recognise who held his life in his hands. Long enough for Kim to decide in that moment whether or not he hated his father enough to take a fitting revenge for his mother's death... **(Chapter 38: Fireworks**_**)**

**Chapter 40**

**FAITH**

**_written by I love music_**

**_ideas and suggestions by Skykat_**

_Sometimes he thought it was only a dream. Sometimes he thought if he closed his eyes for just a moment he would be four years old all over again..._

Daddy was crying!

He could never remember seeing Daddy cry before. Daddy was big and strong and only last week had climbed to the roof on a high ladder to rescue the cat Kim had spotted stuck there. He didn't even cry when the frightened cat scratched him, but only scooped her to his chest and carried her back down very, very carefully and talked to her gently so she wouldn't be so afraid.

And it worked. She lapped up the milk they gave her though she would only drink it if they didn't come too near, but afterwards she even allowed Daddy to get close enough to read her collar so that they could phone her owner. The lady who came to collect her was crying with happiness as was her little girl - and Kim cried too but only because he was sad to have Misty leave. Oh, but not Daddy! Daddy was very calm. He _NEVER_ cried. In fact, he never got too sad and he never got too happy about anything, Kim thought, almost as if he'd decided to fold being too happy and too sad into a big envelope that he'd posted off someplace where nobody would ever be able to find it again.

So to see Daddy crying...well.

But there he was, his strong shoulders heaving with sobs, holding the photo of Mummy and Jonathan, the big brother Kim never knew, because, like Daddy had told him, he'd gone to Heaven to be with Mummy. Kim stood in the door-frame, shocked and scared, all thoughts of asking for a top-up of the juice beaker, demanding another few pages of the bedtime story and chancing his luck by asking for a chocolate biscuit, taking advantage of the fact Daddy had been very worried about him today, flying from his mind.

It was the day they had gone swimming, like they'd done heaps of times before, but things had been different because Daddy had broken his ankle and couldn't drive. So as not to disappoint Kim, they'd taken a cab to the swimming baths instead but it was the first time hadn't gotten into the pool with him.

It was also the day Kim decided, with the supreme confidence of a four-year-old, that he was going to run down to the deep end, jump in and amaze everyone by swimming like a fish. The running down to the deep end was easily achievable but the little boy hadn't bargained on what happened next and he gulped mouthfuls of water as he sank to the bottom of the pool, his arms and legs flailing in absolute terror. Almost immediately he was rescued by a lifeguard and he noticed some people who saw the rescue, other parents who'd brought their kids swimming too, cried a little with relief. But Daddy didn't cry. Daddy never did. Until now.

Kim took two small paces into the room, hesitated for a fraction of a second, overwhelmed by his father's emotion, and then ran to climb up on the couch beside him, staring in alarm at the tears glistening on his face. Then something special happened. Daddy put his arms round Kim's shoulders and said he'd been so very, very scared he was going to lose Kim the same way he'd lost Mummy and Jonathan.

"But I didn't get lost, Daddy," Kim said, his blue eyes wide as he shook his head earnestly, keen to reassure. "I came downstairs and I got _here_. Did Mummy and Jonathan get out of Heaven? Should we could go look for them and put them back in?" His father owned a snow-globe that showed two penguins walking through swirling snowflakes and for reasons best known to himself four-year-old Kim imagined Heaven to be a place in the sky where snow-globes floated through the clouds.

Daddy gave a throaty laugh. "No, they'll be right," he said sniffily, ruffling his hair and kissing the top of his curly blond head as he cuddled Kim close. "You know something, Kimmy? What happened today will never happen again. You're going to be the best swimmer in the world. And we won't cry anymore."

His words were to prove strangely prophetic because neither of them ever did. Oh, there were odd times, it has to be admitted, such as when Kim's pet guinea pig died. Kim shed a few tears then, but Barry said weeping was for women and Kim told himself it was unmanly and bit back the tears. He wanted to be just like his father and his father was way too brave for tears. No, oddly enough, neither of them ever did cry again.

Except inside.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Kim! _Kim, please! Where are you?"_

Never had a voice sounded more desolate. Never had a wild wind mocked more cruelly, spinning his son's name back at him like a banshee wail through the solitude of thick black night. An eerie, wispy mist had been curling around the man's ankles for some time and it was hard to tell now where the earth ended and the river began. He had no idea of where he was or where he was going. Hell, perhaps. Didn't the catholic church say that was where murderers were doomed to spend their eternity? Not that he'd believed in God for a long, long time. The last time he'd set foot inside a church had been for Jonathan's funeral. There had been no funeral for his wife Kerry. His wife Kerry had been buried on a remote hillside by her killer to cover his crime.

He had told no one his secret until tonight, clinging to the only love he had left, the love of his son. But tonight he'd finally admitted to Kim what he'd done...

_For a brief moment the mask of scorn slipped as a wave of pity washed over his face and a sob caught in his throat; "I could've understood if you'd turned yourself in, if you'd had an ounce of remorse. Because you know what really galls me?" his voice turned harsh again. "How you dug her grave and left her there. How in all those years you never tried to put anything right. You're a murderer and a coward. Isn't that the truth, dad?"_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Despite being brought up as Catholics, neither Barry Hyde he nor his fiancee Kerry Mitchell practised their religion, but they dutifully attended Mass at Kerry's local church for the required three weeks prior to their wedding for the banns to be read. They had been childhood sweethearts and it was no surprise when they eventually named the date. Everyone said it was meant to be, it was a perfect match. And the weeks leading up to the big day brought perfect weather too: rain fell softly in the quiet rhythm of the night while the days inevitably brought blue, cloudless skies, benevolent golden sunshine and gentle, refreshing breezes sailing dreamily through the lazy, hazy heat.

But that morning everything changed.

Surprised that he hadn't been woken by the usual birdsong, Barry slid open the thick curtains of his comfortable but cluttered flat. Ever since taking up a teaching post here, he had rented the large top floor apartment with its sloping ceilings and clanking pipes, partly because it was conveniently close to the school where he taught yet only a four-hour drive from his hometown, where Kerry still lived with her widowed mother, but also because it held breathtaking views of the rolling countryside. Watching the ever-changing seasons never failed to restore his dwindling faith that the world must surely have been created by some intelligence and not by accident as his logical mind tried to persuade his heart, and he would often pull up the sash to let in the pure morning air, drinking in the beauty and drama of nature with an artist's eye, for Barry Hyde liked to relax by painting watercolours and fairly good ones at that. But only Kerry and his sister Lorraine knew of his flair for art. Like his own father before him, Barry shied away from anything "unmanly", and the artist's brushes and easels were hidden away in a cupboard, as, sadly, too were many of his pictures.

He reached automatically for the camera that he sometimes used to capture moments he would paint at some later date, planning to one day paint a picture of the wedding morning as a surprise gift for Kerry, and expecting the usual bright sunlight to rush in and greet him. But today there was no sunshine. In its place a dull rain fell against the window and so half-heartedly that after a few moments it gave up falling. An oppressive hush descended. No breeze ever came to playfully shake the tree branches or stir so much as a single blade of grass. The humid day, already hot and uncomfortable even at that early hour, stared dismally back at him, its heavy blanket of cloud obliterating the sky. Perhaps it was an omen.

The wedding was quiet even by small town standards. Bride and groom had few relatives. For Barry, whose parents and younger sister Emma had died some years ago, there was his sister, Lorraine, and her husband, David, and for Kerry, there was only her mother. Until as recently as two weeks ago, there _had _been one other Mitchell relative, a spinster great-aunt, who had been a glamorous beauty back in the day, with so many suitors that she hadn't settled down with any. Millvina Mitchell had packed several lifetimes into her youth: flying aeroplanes during the war, being a member of a travelling amateur dance troupe and playing a chorus girl in two silent movies, but she had passed away in her private nursing home, the wedding outfit the carers helped her choose still hanging in its wardrobe in crinkly cellophane, almost as if she'd heard the wedding would be far too low-key for someone of her ilk her to wait for.

The pews of the church were sparse and peopled with colleagues from the school where Barry taught and a handful of well wishers. Barry would happily have invited too every child in his school and their parents but Kerry balked at "too much attention" and, guilty that he'd talked her into a white wedding in the first place, as soon as they'd learnt she was pregnant and albeit with the best of intentions believing a white wedding to be every girl's dream, he didn't press her.

Barry had a great many acquaintances while Kerry had very few, but neither had anyone they could call a friend.

Kerry rarely met anyone. Although she was extremely clever and had gained a first class honours degree, she was still painfully shy and never put her qualifications to any use, instead staying at home to look after her arthritic mother. And, while his students didn't realise it, Barry Hyde truly lived up to the nickname they'd given him of Dr Jekyll. Outwardly loud and confident, often brusque and acid-tongued, he was in reality a sensitive, gentle man and while he gave the impression that he didn't need anyone he often wished he could laugh and chat as easily as others did. And so Barry's brother-in-law David was best man and the elderly neighbour, who'd lived next door to Kerry's mother since before Kerry was born, gave her away, with his eight-year-old twin grand-daughters bridesmaids.

After the wedding the couple moved to the large detached house that they'd been saving for, with its specially built "granny flat" for Mrs Mitchell, only for tragedy to strike weeks later, when Lucy Mitchell passed away suddenly after a short illness.

But there was the baby to think of now and, because it had to, after they'd grieved life went on as it had before. Kerry had no interest in pursuing a career, preferring to be a homemaker, and, thanks to Barry dabbling in stocks and shares, they could afford to live on one salary. Sometimes he would suggest going out to dinner or the theatre but she inevitably found excuses not to and, apart from the garden, there were whole days when she never left the house at all. She baked, gardened, watched TV or read and instead of going out they rented out movies and ordered takeaways, both closing their eyes to the sneaking suspicion that perhaps Kerry's problems ran far deeper.

When she first took to wearing sunglasses and large sunhat no matter what the weather, believing everyone to be _"staring at how fat she was" _whenever she did venture outdoors,, whether it was to collect letters from the mailbox at the end of the front path or for her regular ante-natal check-ups, he teased her in amusement but she wept so heartbrokenly that he never did again. No doubt, Barry thought, his wife was over-emotional due to her hormones. He loved her as deeply as he had done when they were childhood sweethearts and was prepared to walk on eggshells around her.

Until the terrible day he found her trying to drown their baby son Kim in exactly the same way he'd long suspected she'd murdered their firstborn. But even so she didn't deserve to be killed. Like Kim had said when he was old enough to be told the truth, he could have got her help before it happened. _He could have stopped._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

He looked down at his trembling hands as he shook with sobs, remembering his red-hot fury, the feeling of cuddling his warm, soft baby son in the crook of his left elbow, the feeling of tightening his wife's dark, frizzy hair around his fingers as, even with the infant's screams ringing in his ears, his right hand pushed her down into the bathwater. He could still remember exactly where the spots of blood that had splashed from her had stained him.

Stained his murderer's soul.

A movement, almost imperceptible, caused him to glance up sharply. A luminous white light shone tremulously in the distance and suddenly out of the fog of darkness a small, thin young woman in a wedding dress appeared.

"Kerry?" He whispered in disbelief, and the night, she caught the whisper and echoed it through the trees like a memory lost.

_She was wearing her wedding dress. She told him, her face bright with joy as she held their son's tiny, lifeless body wrapped in silk christening gown, that they had worn white for Jesus. She told him they must give thanks, for Jonathan's spirit had flown with the angels to a far better place than this cruel, cruel world. And after he'd tried in vain over and over to breathe life back into the infant, sobbing as they waited for the paramedics who would be able to do nothing more, he held her fragile body close to his strong chest and said he believed in her. Because he knew the truth would have been too terrible to bear._

She was wearing the bridal dress again when he found her trying to drown their secondborn son. It was the dress she was buried in.

_Still soaking wet from where he'd pushed her down into the lukewarm bathwater, its lacy sleeves and bodice spattered with dozens of tiny spots of blood and fluttering in pale moonlight as he threw the midnight soil of centuries over her corpse, her drenched, dark curls strewn across her face, her wide brown eyes staring accusingly up at him._

The vision swept soundlessly on, the bridal veil covering her face, her head cast down, her hands clasped demurely together, the bridal train sweeping behind her, as she made her way towards the river.

He raced desperately after her, to where she'd paused by the riverbank, stretched out his arm to touch her shoulder. "Kerry, forgive me, please! I never meant for you to die."

But at his touch the shimmering apparition melted into nothingness and his hand was left grasping empty air as his foot slipped dangerously near the edge of the river and plunged him into the icy water.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_I'll never fall in love again. _

Barry Hyde had pledged these words to the silently watching stars the night he buried his wife, knowing, after what he'd done, he wasn't worthy of love anymore. And as time passed by, often he woke with tears stinging his eyes and the promise on his lips. It came in dreams, it came in shadows, it came in the lonely hush of night and in the bustling haste of day.

But he didn't understand why it should come into his head the moment he met Irene Roberts.

Irene Roberts was a stunningly attractive redhead, but it was hatred at first sight. Both beeped their horns impatiently as they made for the same parking space, each mistakenly believing the other to be an imposter using Summer Bay High's parking lot under the false pretence that they worked there. No sooner had they emphatically slammed shut their respective car doors than they crossed swords a second time.

Principal Hyde hauled over the coals the young couple blatantly pashing in the car park and Irene Roberts (their introductions had been angrily yelled at each other over their car roofs to justify their right to park "I am Irene Roberts, _school secretary!" _"I am Barry Hyde, _school principal!"_) hotly defended the young couple's actions as harmless and demanded to know had he never been young or in love himself?

Barry turned abruptly on his heel without deigning to reply. He could still feel her glare burning into his back as he fisted the car keys and strode purposefully towards Summer Bay High with the air and confidence of one accustomed to being obeyed. As indeed he was.

Well known and well respected in the field of education, widower Barry Hyde had acted as spokesperson and negotiator with the minister of education on a number of occasions and, though he didn't teach full time nowadays, he was highly sought after to fill temporary senior posts in Australian schools and colleges, which meant he and his son Kim travelled round a great deal. The little coastal town of Summer Bay, where he had been appointed principal of Summer Bay High while its regular principal Donald Fisher was on a twelve-month vacation visiting family in the USA, was their latest home and he intended to set ground rules at the school from day one.

The two students kissing and cuddling almost on the steps of Summer Bay High had been left in no doubt that if they or anyone else didn't keep their passions outside school hours they would find themselves immediately suspended. He could sense Kim's embarrassment as his son shuffled beside him, walking with the same quick step as his father but in Kim's case it was to escape the stares rather than because he imagined being the principal's son carried any weight. As usual, his head was down and his hands were shoved in his pockets.

"For goodness sake, Kim, walk like a man!" Barry snapped, and Kim's head automatically jerked upwards as he flushed an even deeper red than before.

Irene, who, with a flourish to match Barry's self-importance had locked her own car, a scratched and dented green mini dwarfed by Principal Hyde's gleaming silver Mercedes parked alongside it, marched with equal purpose at the opposite side of the wide path towards the school and reached the entrance a minute or two after father and son. She smiled in conspiratorial sympathy with Kim, who smiled shyly back as he politely held open the door, still blushing furiously at what was, by default, his first impression on his fellow students. Kim had inherited his mother Kerry's painful shyness and his father's dismissive manner when dealing with his peers never endeared him to would-be friends.

"Good God!" Barry exclaimed, coming to a dead halt before the main notice board.

"Is there _another_ problem, _principal_ Hyde?" Irene demanded, as she followed him inside.

Barry stared in astonishment at the handiwork. A banner bearing the message _"Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all" _adorned the top of the board and below were clustered dozens and dozens of random objects: knots of pressed flowers, small teddy bears, badges; pink ribbons; a gold Buddha key-ring; a pretty silver chain and pendant of crescent moon and star...Bristling with fury at the obviously misguided art project, he turned round to the most troublesome woman he'd ever met and was likely to meet in his entire life.

"Indeed there is! School notice-boards are there for a specific purpose: to give out information to students. As school secretary, I would have expected you to ensure..." He broke off, reading Irene's expression. "Mrs Roberts, judging by your defence of the young couple we encountered earlier and your reaction to this...this gaudy tribute to teenage angst, am I right in assuming you actually _condone_ this wanton act of vandalism?"

Few people, if any, challenged Barry Hyde's authority but Irene Roberts met his steely gaze without flinching and spoke in the same patronizing manner. "Mr Hyde, I am proud to say I _do."_

He drew breath, about to put this stupidly stubborn woman straight on school protocol, but she silently indicated something else on the board that he hadn't seen before - and which Barry read now in suitably chastised silence.

Almost smothered by the gifts a heart-shaped, hand-made card read, _"RIP, Lydia" _and underneath was a small school snapshot of a gap-toothed girl squinting at the sunlight hitting the camera, her straw-coloured hair tied in two blonde, green-ribboned bunches, her smile full of mischief, and who looked far too young to have left her mother's side let alone this earth.

"Lydia Connolly was a first year student here," Irene explained quietly. "Her death wasn't totally unexpected. She suffered from a rare illness and it was unlikely she would live into adulthood. But she had made friends in the short time she was here and the kids wanted to pay their respects in the best way they knew how. Flat..." _(Irene coughed, narrowly stopping herself from using the students' nickname for Donald Fisher of flathead; Barry Hyde's strait-laced attitude made her want to act like a defiant teenager) _"Don Fisher gave them permission to use the notice-board." She swept her hand over a palm cross and picture of Jesus taped at the bottom. "As Principal Fisher will no doubt have informed you, we don't push religion down anyone's throats here. We feel they're at an age to make up their own minds and each and every student's view is respected, whether that belief is Protestant, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish, atheist, even Pink bloody Unicorn."

"I'm sorry." Barry spoke hoarsely, burning with shame at the _faux pas_. "I wrongly assumed the display to be an art project and tribute to...to teen romance."

But Irene Roberts didn't suffer fools gladly and she had no intention of letting the most arrogant man she had ever known off with a mere caution. She launched into one of the verbal attacks she was famed for. "Your trouble is, matey, you assume far too much. For Gawd's sakes, you pompous jackass, if you took off the blinkers and climbed down from that bloody high horse once in a while you might actually see what's going on around you!"

Barry's initial shame quickly returned to vehement fury.

"Mrs Roberts, if you wish to keep your job here at Summer Bay High, I suggest you remember I am principal with the power to hire and fire."

"Mr Hyde, may I remind _you_ that this is my _last week _here as school secretary." Unblinking and undaunted, Irene spoke in the same patronizing manner. "If you'd read your paperwork more thoroughly instead of poking that big nose into other matters, you'd be aware that I'm taking over the running of the Summer Bay Diner and that Don Fisher has already arranged for Mrs Andrea Wakefield, a lady with several years' secretarial experience, to start here next Monday. In the meantime, perhaps we can at least _pretend_ to be civil to each other!"

"Fine!" Barry said tersely.

They had reached the principal's office (close to the main notice-board and fortunately easily identifiable by its brass nameplate as Barry had not asked for directions and Irene had not supplied any) where he pulled a small card from his wallet and following its instructions slowly punched in the security code to successfully gain access to the room, where he crashed into his seat and banged his briefcase down on the impressive mahogany desk.

"Fine!" Irene yelled back, as she, from memory, deftly tapped in the numbers to uncode the security lock on the adjacent door marked _Secretary _before disappearing inside.

"Um...This fell on the floor with the other stuff." Still stunned by the fiery exchange, Kim spoke almost in a whisper as he picked up the paperwork that had been blown off the desk by the draught from the doors, singling out a long white envelope marked _"For the urgent attention of Principal Barry Hyde"._

"Thank you, Kim." Barry spoke composedly as he accepted the letter, but his hands were shaking.

"Dad...? Are you okay...?" His son grinned, with sudden tongue-in-cheek concern.

"Perfectly well, thank you." Barry Hyde said as he snapped open his laptop, fervently hoping he hadn't broken it, and looked vaguely around for a socket. "Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"Uh...no reason, I guess."

Kim shrugged, and chose to pass no comment on the fact that, in addition to his shaking, a nervous tic had appeared in his father's cheek and his face was colouring up a flaming red as though a furnace had suddenly fired up in the office. But he couldn't help his mouth twitching at the corners. He had seen this reaction before and each time, he noticed, it had been when his father had dealings with a woman he obviously found attractive. Kim put some of it down to Dad wanting to stay true to Mum's memory (he had heard him on two separate occasions turn down dates) but most of it down to bashfulness. Bashfulness was something Kim knew all about and he never loved his father more than he did in these rare moments when Barry Hyde showed a touching vulnerability that cut right through that cold reserve and made him human.

Awaiting the timetable that would guide him through his first day at Summer Bay High and the reason he had come with his father into the principal's office, his son pulled up a chair, leaned lazily back and folded his arms, a picture of relaxation, to observe Barry's discomfiture with a teasing smile.

Barry sighed. "Kim, I would really appreciate it if you could stop grinning at me like a village idiot!"

"Right," Kim said, smiling more broadly than ever before, his eyes dancing in merriment.

"Kim..."

But Barry Hyde knew when he was defeated and turned his attention instead to slicing open the long white envelope with the dragon-handle letter opener thoughtfully provided. What he read made him suck in a breath and look uncertainly across at the teak door marked _Secretary_, for there were two entrances to Irene Robert's inner sanctum, one which students and general visitors to the school could approach to make enquiries at the little window hatch, and the other reached via the principal's office, where confidential matters pertaining to the school could be discussed in privacy.

Barry tugged at his ear-lobe, loosened his tie, gazed at the light fitting, jangled some coins that had been left in the pen tray. Anything to procrastinate.

Dad normally quashed any romantic liaisons before they began and this was a totally new development. Intrigued, Kim rose from his chair.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, with far more sincerity than he'd enquired earlier, coming round to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Not quite." Barry swallowed, and looked down at the handwritten letter once more.

Don Fisher apologised profusely for _"Putting him on the spot"_. In all the preparations for America and the tragic death of first year student, Lydia Connolly, it had slipped his mind until Irene Roberts, _"Summer Bay High's excellent secretary," _reminded him of the appointment. Don had committed himself to attending a charity function in Yabbie Creek _(a larger coastal town across the water and regarded by many summer bay residents as a sophisticated cosmopolitan city) _organised by Yabbie Creek Academy students in aid of HeartBeat.

The ex-principal had also enclosed two tickets and a flyer which explained that the fledgling charity, created to set up schools in African villages, had been launched by students of the Academy, who were hoping to encourage high schools students all across Australia to become involved. To this end, and to raise funds, they were cooking a jokey "romantic school dinner" to which they had invited heads of various schools and their partners, where couples would sit at tables decorated with hearts and flowers and be serenaded by romantic songs while sampling such delights as lumpy mashed potato, burnt snags and frogspawn (ie tapioca pudding) - fortunately, the students promised, washed down with _"Excellent Wines and Beers to Make Up for the Lack of Decent Food".. _

"_As I am not in a relationship at the moment, Mrs Roberts had kindly agreed to accompany me and says she will quite happily accompany my replacement should you find yourself in the same predicament," _Don Fisher finished. _"I can only apologize again for such short notice and hope the fact this event is tonight doesn't cause too many problems..."_

Barry silently passed the letter and its contents for his son to read.

"Wow!" was Kim's response after skimming over the two pages, a large grin spreading over his face again.

"Wow indeed."

Barry could tell by his tone that Kim found the whole situation highly amusing. But, gathering all his courage, he took a deep breath, snatched up the tickets, and, feeling like a schoolboy on his first date, tapped politely on the teak door, entering meekly upon the hesitant and strangely emotional _Come in! _as though the voice had lately needed to steady itself before issuing the invitation.

"Hay fever," Irene said, shoving something quickly into the desk drawer and plucking a tissue from a box on the desk to blow her nose.

Rain had threatened all morning, but in the short time he'd been gone the sun had peeped in to dance on the walls and catch the red glints of her hair. And the tell-tale teardrops shining in her eyes. Much later she told him it was the anniversary of her family's death and the object she had she had hidden in the drawer had been a photograph. Oh, much, much later. On a night when secrets would be shared, when she would tell him of her tragedy and he too would confide in her.

For now it was enough that he whispered, "Mrs Roberts, I'm so, so sorry for the comments I made earlier."

"Irene," she whispered back. "And I'm sorry for what I said too."

"Barry," he replied.

For now it was enough that the sun danced on the walls and their smiles broke through the silence.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Anything?"

"There's a faint pulse." His face soaked with tears, breathless with his vain attempts to restore his father to consciousness, Kim answered his friend's question without looking up. " Come on, Dad. You can make it. You've got to!" He took another breath and once more began desperately pummelling his chest.

"Look, mate, maybe I should go for help...?" Will suggested uncertainly.

Naturally they had already looked to their mobiles but Kim's phone had been drenched when he dived into the water and Will had somehow managed to leave his phone in the beautiful Dani's garage. He never knew if Kim heard him or not, but he made his decision. The grounds of Hartwell Mansion were vast, stretching over several acres, and it would take some time to reach there to phone the emergency services but he knew of a short cut that would take him to the road where he might flag down a car. Will Smith turned in the direction of a huddle of shadowy trees where he, Hayley and Nick, exploring the area when they'd first moved here, had been intrigued to discover an ancient path. They had never followed the winding path to its end; it had been enough to know a road could be seen in the distance and Will trusted in himself to find the way.

His fate was sealed.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This will be the last update for a little while. One reason is, I'm going on holiday in less than 2 weeks so won't have time to write another chapter before then but the main reason is I'm going to be computerless for some weeks. The one I have now keeps shutting down and could give out any time so it's being donated to a friend who can use its spare parts and I won't be looking round for another computer till after I get back from hol.


	41. Chapter 41

**The Story So Far:** _**Wanting to take revenge on Kane Phillips after he attacks her two closest friends, Martha McKenzie follows him with a knife when he leaves the party but ends up running from him, falling into the sea in her terror. Phillips dives in after her and they are washed up on a deserted ocean island. **_

_"I know what happened with Cassie and Hayley."_

_"Cassie and Hayley?" Kane Phillips gave a short laugh, convinced this had to be some kind of joke. Sure, he'd made out with Crazy Cassie but it had been her idea and, sure, he'd given spoilt little rich girl Hayley a scare by pretending he wasn't going to let her go, but she'd been amusing herself by coming on to him and then turning him down._

_"Mac..."_

_"Don't you dare move!"_

_The clear threat in her voice made him freeze. Waves rolled and crashed in the seconds an eternity passed between them. Her heart beating like a drum, Martha looked down at the knife, unable to believe what she was prepared to do. And, misreading the gesture, he made the big mistake of relaxing. _

_"Jeez, Mac, you know, for a minute there I really thought..."_

_His eyes widened and a strange shuddering gurgling emitted from his throat as the ice cold blade plunged into his lower chest and he slumped…__**Chapter 36: Dreams**_

**_CHAPTER 41_**

**RECKONING**

_written by I love music_

_original idea and suggestions by Skykat_

A sharp, aching fear engulfed her like a dark cloud as she realised the enormity of what she'd done.

"Kane, I didn't mean it. I was scared, I didn't know…oh, God, Kane, I'm so sorry! Please wake up!"

She knelt by his side, tracing her fingers desperately over the contours of his face. Although she couldn't shake off the strangest feeling that he was only pretending to be unconscious. But that had to be her imagination, right? She'd plunged the sharp blade of a Swiss army knife into his stomach . Rich, red blood was pouring from the wound, creating a scarlet moonlit pool in the night's pale gold sand. His eyes were fast shut, his body barely moving. How could anyone fake that? _Why_ would anyone fake that? And yet…Oblivious of the blood, she lay her head against him and listened again to the quiet beating of his heart, comforted by the rhythm of his chest and the small sound breaking into the lonely silence. She closed her eyes, trying to wish away the nightmare, trying to wish herself back into normality, and her exhausted mind filtered through a jumble of images, the unsolicited dream that swept her away into its world finally settling on the day she had received the invitation to Hayley Smith's party.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Martha laughed in stunned disbelief as she read the words aloud:

_You, Being one of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly no Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies Party of the Year._

"I know she _said _she was going to have that written on the invites but I honestly thought she was joking," she told Cassie Turner, her best friend.

She stopped laughing however as she saw the serious look on Cassie's face.

"What's wrong, Cass?" she asked gently.

Cassie was the same age as Martha - in fact, she was a couple of months older - but she often felt as though Cassie were much younger than herself. They had hit it off from the moment they'd met, when Hayley and her crew had been sniggering at gawky Cassie's dorky overflowing school bag with its broken strap and her worn, daggy sensible school shoes as she stared in confusion at the school notice-board, running her fingers through her already wildly windswept hair.

Martha was still fairly new to Summer Bay High and keen to fit in, but something snapped inside her as she watched poor Cassie shaking nervously, trying to ignore their derogatory remarks, and she had dared go against the crowd to offer her help. A grateful childlike smile lit up Cassie's anxious face and shone in her big, scared brown eyes. And that was when Mac realised she'd been fooling herself long enough. Stuff the so-called sophisticated ways of the Beautiful People, as Hayley and her hangers-on liked to refer to themselves! She'd prefer Cassie as a friend to any one of them. There was a refreshing honesty about her, so different from their shallow ways of judging people solely on looks and possessions. Before she came to live in Summer Bay, Martha had been like that too.

Martha "Mac" McKenzie had grown up in the old-fashioned village of Brookdown, and had loved the family atmosphere of the small village school, which boasted only twenty-eight pupils and was run by the kindly, silver-haired Mrs Nevett. The big news of the day would often be Mr and Mrs Greenwood, the elderly owners of the village's only cake shop, over-baking a batch of buns, or an animal on someone's farm giving birth, or if there'd been another bumper crop of strawberries or plums and the vicar's eccentric wife was making yet more jars of jam, which she regularly donated to Brookdown parishioners - who, already having far more jars of jam than they could eat in several lifetimes, secretly passed them to Brookdown School via Adam Bird, the caretaker, for redistribution to the elderly in distant smoky cities.

Nobody in Brookdown had been particularly interested in celebrities or fashion and, no matter what happened in the world outside, days in the village drifted by in the same sleepy way they had always done. Summer Bay might only have been a seaside town, and not a very big one at that, but to Martha, used to a much slower pace of life, it glittered with the same excitement as New York or Milan or Paris, and Summer Bay High seemed to be the very last word in style. Flattered that wealthy, beautiful Hayley Smith, who was even related to a _movie star_, had taken her under her wing, Mac had begun to quickly change from a gauche, cowboy-booted country girl to an empty-headed social butterfly.

Meeting Cassie that day had been the reality check she needed, she told herself sternly. Changing her image to a more modern one was all very well, but she had always felt ill at ease with the cruelty and bitching that, at Summer Bay High at any rate, seemed to go hand in hand with it. To her relief, Hayley didn't totally cut her out of her exclusive circle when she began spending more time with Cassie and less time with the gang - but nor did she make any secret of the fact she considered Mac one of the Beautiful People and that her friendship with Cassie was holding her back.

Mac had furiously bagged Hayley out over it on more than one occasion, especially the time when, thinking Martha had gone to the bathroom, she disdainfully told Cassie she could wait outside in the pouring rain because she didn't want muddy footprints trailed all over Hartwell Mansion, and that she not only sounded like a clod-hopping horse but strongly resembled one too. Martha was pretty certain now that Hayley, preying on Cassie's low self-esteem, had done something spiteful.

Cassoe bit her lip. "It's nothing," she lied.

But Martha saw the tell-tale glance towards the cluttered dresser in Cassie's tiny bedroom and she shrewdly picked up Cassie's own party invitation that her friend had placed face down without comment by a jaunty vase of flowers.

Cassie lived with her grandmother Joy just outside Summer Bay, on a dilapidated smallholding built by Cassie's great-grandparents back in 1925. Some years ago The Old Farm had kept goats, hens and horses, even geese for a little while, but nowadays the only animal to be seen roaming was Betsy, the Turner's elderly cat, and Mrs Turner and her granddaughter grew flowers, which they sold to the local market, as well as some fruit and a few vegetables, which they kept for their own use. Martha was staying with her friend while her guardian Alf Stewart was away on a long pre-retirement vacation and, despite her bedroom being a cramped, converted loft with a narrow skylight for a window, and her wardrobe being a plastic, zip-up contraption, squashed between the put-up bed and wonky shelf that she banged her head on every single time she got out of bed, she was loving every minute of being there.

Her fellow students at Summer Bay High said she was crazy, but Martha thoroughly enjoyed sometimes hitching a lift to school on Mr Roach's open-to-all-weathers milk float and catching the rickety country bus home later, to face a further half hour walk from the nearest bus stop, which meant, if it was sunny, dodging cow pats and sheep droppings, and, if it was wet, wading their way through deep, treacly mud. It reminded Mac of growing up on the family farm in Brookdown and she had taken to it like a duck to water - literally, for in heavy rain travellers crossing Ha'penny Brook had to hold on extra tight to the ropes that supported its slippery wooden bridge and twice Cassie and Martha, crying with laughter, had fallen into the (fortunately extremely shallow) stream.

Both had both hurried out to greet Tommy Cotton when he'd trundled up in a chugging tractor to drop off their mail that Saturday morning. Cassie had told Martha that there had once been a postman and van but since he'd gone to live in the city with his wife and baby no one had replaced him, and so the folk on the surrounding farms had initiated their own haphazard postal service, whereby anyone with transport who happened to be collecting their own mail picked up and delivered their neighbours' as well.

Mac had been so wrapped up in reading out her own invitation to the party that she'd barely noticed her friend was unusually quiet, but now, before Cassie could stop her, she snatched up the card on the dresser and gasped in shock.

"Oh, Cass! How can she be so mean?"

Felt tip pen had been used to strike several thick black lines through the earlier wording, thoroughly hammering home the message that Cassie was not considered among the elite. Not even worthy of a name, Martha thought angrily. Knowing Martha wouldn't come to the party if her daggy friend hadn't been invited too, which meant if Martha didn't come some of her own friends might not either (Hayley was well aware, though Mac wasn't, that she was quickly losing her queen bee status to the hugely popular Martha McKenzie) and, never dreaming that she would ever get to see it because when the invitations were written Martha hadn't been staying at Cassie's, Hayley had simply scrawled_ C. Turner _at the bottom of the invite. The staff at Hartwell Mansion who were under strict instructions to check that each guest had a personal invitation before leaving the party to the Smiths (Hayley had paid them exceptionally well to take the rest of the time off while their foster parents were absent and, with such a hefty sum being offered and considering Will and Hayley old enough to be trusted, they had been happy to oblige) would be left in no doubt that Cassie Turner had only been invited to the party out of pity.

"It doesn't matter," Cassie said uncomfortably. "Please, Mac, don't say anything. I don't want to ruin the party for everyone."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well, it isn't _you_ ruining it," Martha had begun, when a sudden loud crashing of the ocean startled her abruptly back into wakefulness and the present. She sat up groggily, finding it difficult to shake the heaviness of a deep, faraway sleep from her Phillips lay grinning at her.

"Hey, babe. Was it good for you too?" he murmured in lazy amusement.

She flushed, ashamed at being caught resting her head on his bare chest like a lover, and confused by her swirling emotions. Relieved he wasn't dead, wanting to wipe the smug smile off his face - and her heart lurching as she became acutely aware of the beautiful blueness of his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cassie had said, when she first confided in Mac that she wanted to be Kane Phillips' girlfriend, that eyes were windows to the soul.

"Don't you think so, Mac?"

Cassie looked to her companion for approval, feeling a warm glow of happiness envelop her as they strolled together along the beach, their arms linked. She had never had anyone to confide in like this before. Of course there was Gran but Gran was Gran and there were things only a friend her own age would understand. And Cassie had never had a friend before. Well, not since before her parents died when she was only ten-and-a-half years old, too young to appreciate boys and clothes and make-up and all the other things that had begun to replace kids' games just around the time Uncle Ben had…had…Cassie didn't want to think about it. One day she'd tell Martha the terrible secret, she would, she would. Mac was the nicest person in the world - well, after Kane Phillips and Gran - but it was going to take heaps of courage to tell anyone what Uncle Ben had done. Cassie didn't feel ready to take that step just yet.

"Don't you think eyes are mirrors to the soul?"

"You sound like Megan Ashcroft," Martha said, trying not to laugh. "And they were windows a minute ago!"

"I like Megan. Isn't it weird how one of her eyes is brown and the other green? She's like a gypsy with all her fortune telling, isn't she?" Cassie remarked chattily. "Talking of gypsies, Mac, I don't understand why Hayley hates Gypsy Nash so much, do you? I mean, I know she's a bit of a drama queen but so's Hales and…"

_"Cass!" _Martha burst out laughing, unable to hold it back any longer. "Don't you ever pause for breath, you big dork?"

Cassie looked uncertain for a moment. After Uncle Ben and the relentless bullying she'd been subjected to at her previous high schools she still found it hard to trust people and, though she'd never told her, she always half expected stunningly pretty Martha McKenzie to desert her in favour of her much cooler friends. The Beautiful People, as Hayley called them, making it clear that Martha was wasting her time with Cassie Turner, the world's biggest dag. And secretly Cassie agreed. Why on earth Martha wanted to hang out with someone as dull as herself was a mystery.

"It goes way back," Martha shrugged, in answer to Cassie's question. "Something to do with the school show. Jodie Beamish did start telling me the story once but I was only half listening. I'd just noticed Jack Holden looking my way, see," she added, with a grin.

"You and Jack are sooo good together, Mac," Cassie said, relaxing again as she realised Martha had only been teasing her in the way close friends did.

It had been an awesome day. Gypsy Nash, who normally lodged at the Diner with Irene Roberts, was away visiting family in Yabbie Creek and Cassie's grandmother had been invited to spend the weekend with old friends, so they were staying with Irene at the Diner which Martha's grandfather owned. They'd caught a chick flick at Yabbie Creek's multi-screen cinema, lingered over chocolate sundaes while people watching, checked out the new clothes store at the mall, and got off the bus back home to Summer Bay a stop earlier than they needed to so that they could walk along the beach talking guys. The red evening sunset glowed on the river and Cassie felt as though the magic of the night had breathed on her soul.

"Kane Phillips has lovely eyes, doesn't he? With any luck, we'll be just like you and Jack one day!" She predicted happily.

Martha came to an abrupt halt, pulled her arm out of Cassie's and turned round to face her friend, clenched fists on hips,. Cassie was like a kid sister to her and no way was she going to stand by and let her get involved with someone so dangerous!

"Now you listen to me, Cassandra Patricia Turner," she demanded. "Kane Phillips is bad news. Promise me you won't go anywhere near him."

"Jack says he's alright," Cassie objected, blinking back hot tears of disappointment.

Once she got a boyfriend, she'd be normal, wouldn't she? She wouldn't have nightmares about her uncle anymore. But she couldn't tell Martha this. Martha didn't know anything about Uncle Ben and Cassie didn't feel she could tell her until she was normal but she couldn't be normal until she had a boyfriend. That was how it worked…wasn't it? It was all mixed up inside her head,##

Martha snorted derisively. "Huh! Jack Holden wants to give everyone a fair go. He'd say Sweeney Todd was misunderstood and just happened to pick up the wrong recipe when he began putting people into pies."

"But I _need_ a boyfriend! And Noah and Kim and Will, they all think Kane's okay too." Cassie named some more students in the hope of changing Martha's mind.

Martha wasn't backing down however. "You don't _need _a boyfriend, Cass. Nobody does. Anyway, Noah Lawson's a Christian so he has to like everyone, it's in the job description; Kim Hyde doesn't know _how_ to hate people and Will Smith's too lazy to be bothered. Look, Cass, I'm telling you this for your own good," she added, her tone softening. "It's different for guys. Kane Phillips is okay with the guys sometimes. But he disrespects girls."

"I really like him," Cassie said in a small voice, aware she was losing the argument.

"I know you do." Martha said gently. "But what sort of mate would I be if I let you get hurt? Oh, Cass, you understand, don't you? Friends?"

Cassie nodded, smiling weakly, and returned Martha's hug. They had closed the door on the subject forever then. Or so Martha had thought.

Everything changed at Hayley's party. A massive blue with Jack, a few drinks too many, and she _had_ let Cassie get hurt. Hayley too. Her two best friends. Cassie was like a kid sister and Hayley, despite everything, had looked after Martha when she came to Summer Bay High. But Mac had been far too wrapped up in her own problems at the party tonight to be there for her friends. If she hadn't been so mad with Jack she'd never have drunk so much, if she hadn't drunk so much, she'd never have been stupid enough to let Hayley and Cassie talk her into helping fix Cassie up with Kane Phillips in the first place. And then, when her friends needed her most, where was she? In the sprawling grounds, drunkenly pouring a bucket of cold water over Jack and Gypsy because she'd seen them pashing, that's where!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

What was she thinking, apologising to this lowlife who'd attacked her friends? What was she thinking, gazing into a monster's eyes? Those same cruel eyes had looked on Cassie and Hayley with nothing but icy contempt.

She looked away, ashamed of her betrayal, and staggered to her feet, examining the warm, sticky blood on her hip. It was only a flesh wound. The knife she'd carried in her trouser pocket must have dug into her and sliced her skin. She was lucky though, the damage could have been much worse and…

A shuffling and clattering noise from behind made her look back. Kane Phillips had tried to reach for the water bottle but only succeeded in knocking it over as he fell helplessly backwards, too weak to support himself. So he _was_ more badly hurt than he was pretending to be with the big macho act. Even now he was grinning arrogantly up at her, ready with one of his usual smartass sneering comments.

And then he suddenly cried out and clutched his bloodied stomach as spasms of pain jerked through him.

"Mac…" His voice was hoarse when finally he could speak again, his breath laboured, his face pale in the moonlight, glistening beads of sweat pouring down his forehead,. the water he'd collected from the freshwater pool trickling away as he waited for, expected, Martha's help.

Whether he lived or died, if they were ever rescued, she still had a lot of explaining to do about the stabbing. But that had been an accident. _What if…? _She thought of Cassie. Of Hayley. Of how badly he'd hurt them. Well, she could do something for her friends now. She could let Kane Phillips know what it was like to be at the mercy of someone stronger. Someone without kindness or pity.

No one would ever know if she deliberately deprived him of water.

Even Phillips himself - IF he survived, and who cared if he didn't? - was going to be way too crook to remember anything about payback. Trembling, shocked that she could even think like this, terrified of being left alone on the island but determined to avenge her friends, Martha steeled herself and turned away…


	42. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER 42**

**_RUNAWAY TRAIN_**

_**Runaway train, never going back**_

_**Wrong way on a one-way track**_

_**Seems like I should be getting somewhere**_

_**Somehow I'm neither here nor there**_

_**Runaway Train © Soul Asylum**_

Gypsy Nash never stopped talking. Or singing or dancing. She couldn't help it. The bright yellow light of the sun that laughingly stole in to wake her each morning drew her to life as though it were her own personal spotlight and the whole world her very own stage. From the age of three or four, sometimes even before the birds had had time to organise conductor and choir for the dawn chorus, Gypsy would fling back the bedclothes and, lisping snatches of nursery rhymes, toddle off to her parents room, where (with difficulty and determination, for she could barely reach it) she would turn the round brass handle, fling the door dramatically open and happily announce, _"MOOORRRNNNING!"_

This would be followed up by Gypsy, giggling infectiously, launching herself on to her parents' bed like a human cannonball, or, if she'd already grabbed her Mum and Dad's bleary-eyed attention, often as not a song or dance routine, inevitably accompanied by one or more of her favourite toys, or, on occasion, a "magic trick" (Pandy, Gypsy's stuffed toy panda purchased on a day trip to Ocean Park, might "vanish" behind Gypsy's back to triumphantly reappear raised above her head).

Despite the early hour and the fact Joel Nash, who was a police officer, might have been working a late night shift in the sticky heat of Hong Kong (the Nash family had moved there from Australia when Gypsy was a little over two years old and her brother Tom five, partly because it was a chance for promotion but for another reason, of which Gypsy was as yet blissfully unaware) and that Natalie, a trained social worker, who combined voluntary administrative work from home with looking after two small children, might have been typing up reports long into the night, they found it impossible to stay cross for very long with their sunny-natured small daughter.

Gypsy was well known in the friendly local community, her talkativeness, fiery red hair and green eyes making her conspicuous among the shy, dark-haired Asian children, and, being a born entertainer, she lapped up the attention. Storekeepers, market sellers, road sweepers, tram drivers, without exception everybody knew and loved her. Tom, too, had slotted in well and was popular with his classmates at his new school. And, although they missed so much about Australia, their beautiful large detached home with its own swimming pool, the barbies on the beach, the wide open spaces, and the laid back way of life, all swapped for the frantic pace of a rollercoaster city, Natalie and Joel agreed that they'd made the right decision to up sticks for foreign shores.

Space being a major problem in Hong Kong's crowded city , their new home at Number 15 North Kowloon Street looked exactly the same as its neighbours on the housing complex that provided cheaper accommodation for police officers and their families, each house being shoebox sized with a pocket handkerchief garden front and back. Except for the large colourful Oriental blooms that flourished there, the complex could have passed for any anonymous estate thoughtlessly thrown up by profit-driven companies in any anonymous British new town.

This little link with Britain however, tenuous though it was, delighted Mr and Mrs Nash. Each had parents who had emigrated from the UK, Joel's family hailing from Bristol and Natalie's from London, and Joel and Natalie were touchingly proud of their English ancestry. A traditional roast dinner was served up every Sunday no matter how hot the weather or how difficult it had been (as it sometimes was) to obtain the ingredients, and neither would have dreamt of missing _Coronation Street_ although the Hong Kong episodes, five years behind the UK, were shown at random times or occasionally dropped from schedules altogether.

Despite their lifestyle not being as luxurious as it had been in Australia, the Nash family were happy. The first hint that anything was wrong came one unremarkable Tuesday morning a few weeks after Gypsy's eleventh birthday.

Another torrential downpour had washed the land only yesterday, but the rainy season was thankfully drawing to a close and the hot humidity was finally broken, leaving a wonderful tang of freshness in the air. Natalie, feeling more energetic than she had done for weeks, was half listening to an English-speaking radio talk show while cleaning the downstairs windows. She waved as she saw Mrs Chang walking up the path, only briefly noting she seemed troubled.

Mr Chang and Mrs Chang lived next door with their teenage son and they and the Nashes had often babysat for each other when the children were younger. Their offspring no longer needed babysitting; Kuan-Yin, known by his English name of Michael, had turned eighteen and Tom, who was a sensible fourteen-year-old, was considered old enough to be trusted now to look after his little sister. The Changs were a great deal older than Natalie and Joel, but despite the age difference they had become good friends.

Ivy Chang was a small, busy woman who had been born into poverty in a small village in China, her orphaned unmarried mother shunned by all until she stowed away with her baby to Hong Kong where, after living on the streets for some years, they were eventually found and taken in by a kindly elderly couple. Ivy's first marriage was miserable, her husband a cold man who kept her short of money and rarely acknowledged their three small daughters and no one mourned his passing. Her fortunes changed however when she flouted convention and remarried and she had since trained as a teacher.

Having seen so much misery as a child, little shocked Ivy. But this story of unbelievable cruelty did. She put down the bundle of papers she was carrying and looked at her neighbour, deep concern in her chocolate brown eyes.

"I make tea. You feel better."

"It's Gypsy, isn't it?" Natalie, dreading what she would find, snatched up the pages before Mrs Chang could stop her.

The wording was Chinese, but even the first few pictures were enough to know.: an old newspaper print of Gypsy, just a few days old, being cuddled by a nurse at the hospital she'd been taken to; shiny new photographs of the house where the Nashes lived now, aerial shots, nonetheless anyone with a smattering of geographical knowledge could have identified the area.

In the flurry of fleeing Hong Kong, Natalie never did find out how her friend had come by the information. Perhaps Mr Chang, in the line of his police work; perhaps Mr Chang's brother, who worked for a newspaper in Kowloon; perhaps somehow during preparation for her students' work. It didn't matter. All that did matter was protecting Gypsy. It was for that very reason they had left Australia.

"We have to go," she said shakily, beside herself, distractedly beginning to stuff the laundry basket's pile or unironed washing into a shopping bag, hardly knowing what she was doing. "We have to pack. I have to tell Joel, get the kids out of school…"

Kind-hearted Mrs Chang laid her hand on Natalie's arm.

"My friend, tomorrow how long secret be secret?" she asked gently. "Is it not wise child hear from parents who love?" .

"No!" Natalie cried emphatically. "Gypsy must never know."

Her friend shook her head sadly and quoted an old Chinese proverb in her native tongue.

"What is told into the ear of a man is often heard a hundred miles away."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_**6 months later**_

_**Summer Bay High, Australia**_

The second the bell rang for end of school, Jodie Beamish bolted. Gypsy Nash already had. A whole hour ago. Shaken by Jodie's revelation and feeling crook, she had been sent home.

Miss Hope, unaware of the drama that had played out only moments before, continued her lecture about the political situation in 1930s Australia, and Jodie buried her head in the thick history book without taking in a word. She had been all too acutely aware of the glint in Hayley Smith's eyes and the smirk that played on Adam Kerr's lips when she'd blurted out what she knew. Both were snobs and Adam loved to sneer at those he considered beneath him but Hayley was positively _gloating. _

With her beauty, family's vast riches, and two heartthrob brothers (older brother Will could have his pick of any girl in the school and younger brother Nick was making a movie in Hollywood and had featured in an article about child stars in OK! magazine) Hayley had been queen bee of Summer Bay High - until stunningly attractive redhead Gypsy Nash came along.

Gypsy's family were fairly well-heeled and Gypsy too had a heartthrob older brother although Tom was exceptionally clever and had soon dropped Summer Bay High in favour of Yabbie Creek Academy. But Gypsy had even more: a flair for singing and dancing, a love of life, and, worst of all, Will, Hayley's adored older brother, eating out of her hand. Hayley and Gypsy had quickly become sworn enemies but so far all Hayley and her cronies' attempts to bring down Pollyanna, as they mockingly called her, had failed miserably.

Until Jodie not only provided dynamite and matches, she lit the fuse.

Gypsy had made no secret of the fact she was adopted - in fact, to Adam's disgust, she was actually _proud_ of it, telling everyone her parents had probably been two very young and very poor high school students who loved her too much to keep her and that when she became a famous actress she'd find them and give them heaps of money.

Sitting in the sun-streaked classroom, remembering what Gypsy had always believed, Jodie would have given anything to rewind. Why, why, why had she said what she said? But she already knew the answer: jealousy.

Deirdre Kent, Summer Bay High's caustic-tongued, thrice-married, bohemian drama teacher, who, at the grand age of forty-four still had men puffing out their chests and rushing to buy her drinks, had that very morning announced the results of the _Bugsy Malone _auditions. Jodie had set her heart on a speaking role. Bypassing the fact she was maybe a little too lacking in self confidence and _"mumbled her lines like a halfwit,"_ as Mrs Kent bluntly told her, and encouraged by her friends because she really could sing and well (provided she stared at a random corner of the stage or, better still, closed her eyes because Jodie lost both tune and words if she dared look at anyone) she had watched the movie over and over and even begun memorizing some of the lines. But all she'd made was one of the chorus girls and then not even a _dancing_ chorus girl, just someone who would appear at the very end of the show singing along with half a dozen others, while Gypsy Nash, who'd only been at the school for five minutes, for Crissakes, had been chosen for the starring role of _Tallulah._

Jodie had left the Drama Hall, where Mrs Kent had verbally given each auditionee an honest appraisal (too honest, many would have said) with her face burning and tears stinging her eyes. Gypsy Nash had stayed, partly because Mrs Kent had asked her to in order to arrange rehearsal times and partly because she was busy receiving congratulations from everyone. And maybe she hadn't been laughing at Jodie when Deirdre Kent tore her performance to shreds but in that vulnerable moment, when her dreams came crashing down, Jodie convinced herself that she had. She happened to catch Gypsy's eye and she was smiling broadly, surrounded by - well, for want of a better word,_ fans_ - like Hayley Smith and unlike plain, mediocre, apparently _couldn't-act-if-her-life-depended-on-it-and-not-only-mumbled-her-lines-but-spoke-to-her-shoes _Jodie Beamish, Gypsy Nash seemed to draw people to her.

And maybe, just before History class began, she hadn't been rubbing it in, though it seemed very much like it, when, with very little prompting from her _fans_ (God, it made Jodie sick, all this sucking up to Gypsy Nash) she jumped up on the desk and began singing.

"_My name is Tallulah, my first rule of thumb, I don't say where I'm going or where I'm coming from…" _

Hayley who had declared school musicals geeky; she was, after all, she pointed out, related to an actual Hollywood star (neither she nor her friends troubled to audition) sat glaring at her rival. Gypsy had borrowed several of the boys' ties and then looped them to form a long double necklace that she was swinging round her neck like a 1920s flapper. She was thoroughly enjoying herself .

And the words were out before Jodie could stop them.

"Ha! Well, nobody ever did find out where _you_ came from, did they? Nobody ever _did_ find out who tied you up and dumped you on the cliffs like a piece of TRASH!"

There was a stunned silence, broken only by Adam's half-smothered guffaw and Hayley's affected little giggle and the normally placid Jodie, who'd once been awarded an A+ (the only one she'd ever attained) for her essay on how even in wars killing someone could never be justified, could happily have murdered them both.

It was unheard of for quiet, mousy Jodie Beamish to bag anyone out. That was what made it all the more…

…Frightening.

Gypsy, who had jumped down off the desk and, like everyone else, was staring at Jodie, felt a strange icy fear. Normally nothing fazed her, yet something caught in her throat even as she asked the question.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Jodie rummaged in her school bag, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. None of her small circle of friends took this particular History class and she felt very alone.

"No, say it." Gypsy demanded. "You can't make up things like that and not say what you mean."

"I'm not making it up, I swear." Jodie was trembling and on the verge of tears now.

"Tell me then." Gypsy could hear the blood whooshing through her ears and her heart pounding against her chest. But she had to _know. _

"My Mum told me," Jodie at last said quietly, on the verge of tears. "She worked at the hospital so she knew." Her voice wavered and became little more than a whisper. "She said they'd found you on top of the cliffs with your hands and feet tied together."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Gypsy, darling…"

From downstairs in the vestibule Gypsy froze. Although she'd been careful to stuff a bundle of clothes in the empty bed, she hadn't reckoned on Mum checking on her till morning. Mum! What was she thinking? She had no mother. She had _no one…_

A tiny voice of reason tried to tell her nothing had changed. She had always known she was adopted, hadn't she? When she was only five years old and curious to know more, Natalie and Joel had even arranged a family trip back to Australia so that Gypsy could visit the hospital where she'd been taken as a baby.

But they'd told her she was adopted because she was _special_, she argued back. They had let her believe, when she was very small, her idea that she was a lost princess and years later, in fact until Jodie Beamish opened her big mouth and told her what really happened, her own story that she was the daughter of a teenage couple who wanted the very, very best for the child they loved so very deeply but were unable to care for.

They hadn't told her, like Jodie Beamish had, that when she was just a few days old someone had deliberately made the long, difficult trek up the jagged cliffs to place her tiny naked body, tightly trussed with strong rope, to blister and die in the searing heat.

There was still a tiny brown scar on her left wrist.

She traced her finger over it. Until today she had always assumed it to be a birthmark and never given it a second thought. But now she knew it for what it was: someone's overwhelming hatred of her.

She heard Natalie's voice again, joined now by Joel's and she slipped into the shadows by the coat hooks under the stairs, a large golfing umbrella and her father's spare kagoul from his police uniform enough to shield her.

"Let her sleep," Joel advised. "It's what she needs. At least Tom's still away on the camping trip. We'll wait till he gets back before we tell him."

There was a silence. Natalie sounded as though she were crying softly and in the darkness Gypsy could picture Joel putting his arms consolingly around her and hugging her tightly to his chest.

They had each other. The forlorn figure stole softly to the back door, gently unhitched the latch and crept outside into an empty world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hayley Smith absently cupped the teddy bear she'd owned since babyhood, and which was sitting on her bedroom window-sill, as she gazed out at the moonlight that shimmered over the harbour and skimmed the tips of the wavering trees of Whitelady Woods.

Today had been the greatest day ever at Summer Bay High. She almost laughed out loud as she recalled the way the colour had drained from Gypsy's Nash's face when Jodie Beamish blabbed. Thankfully, Will was still away on that stupid camping trip with a crowd of mates from the surfing club else no doubt he'd be dancing attention on her. As usual.

She hated the way he was so hung up on Gypsy Nash and so pally with her brother.

That was what came of attending a school as common as Summer Bay High, she thought ruefully. They could have gone to any school they chose, their parents told them they were rich enough to afford it, and Nick, to no one's surprise, chose to board five days a week at a world-famous drama school in the city, but Will, despite Hayley's attempts to persuade him otherwise, said he'd prefer to be _"just one of the guys" _and she had swallowed her disappointment and joined him there. Of course she could still have gone to a more exclusive education establishment, but without Will she knew she would be as lost as she was the terrible day when she was five years old and their parents slipped out to the shops and perished in a car that turned into a ball of flame.

Will was the only who cared about her. Nick was just a kid still and too young to even remember their real Mum and Dad (when he was seven he'd announced quite seriously, counting them off one by one on his fingers, that he didn't believe in Father Christmas, the Easter Bunny or his real Mum and Dad anymore) and George and Julie Smith, their adoptive parents, gave her whatever she wanted and more…

Except the love she craved.

To her surprise, Summer Bay High hadn't been as bad as she'd thought it would be. All the girls in her class envied her stunning good looks, fashion sense and designer labels while all the guys fell madly in love with her and pretty soon, to Will's amusement, she not only had a substantial following but ruled the roost. But when the Nashes arrived everything changed.

Tom was older than Will and academically much brighter, but they were both into sports in a big way and had stayed good mates even when, after only a handful of weeks, Tom, finding Summer Bay High classes far too slow for his quick brain, switched to Yabbie Creek Academy. But Tom had never been as much of a problem as Pollyanna was. Hayley scowled at a passing cloud. She had come across upstarts like Gypsy Nash before and had quickly put them in their place, back down where they belonged. But Will's disloyalty, when he began taking Gypsy's side over his own kid sister, that hurt so much.

Will was all that Hayley had.

And she had everything. Breathtaking beauty, millionaire parents, dozens of friends, dozens of guys wanting to date her. But it wasn't the same as having someone who was always there for her. Or used to be until Pollyanna came along. She lifted Freddie Teddy to her face and rested her tear-smeared cheek against the comfort of his soft fur.

"Hayley, you jerk!" She whispered, suddenly aware of the momentary lapse.

She was queen bee of Summer Bay High, wasn't she? She was someone the whole school adored and looked up to. What would they think if they saw her now? And she pulled first herself and then the velvet drapes together, wiped her eyes and closed out the eternity of the watching sky.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh, my good Gawd!"

In one swift movement, Irene Roberts, temporary manager of the hugely popular Summer Bay Diner while its owner Alf Roberts was away on a long pre-retirement vacation, dropped the saucer of milk she'd been carrying, gripped the collar of her dressing gown, grabbed the Diner's oldest chair (some say it belonged to Alf's own grandfather, some claim it's a clever fake) by one of its fancy curved legs and towered over the table, hoping to frighten away the burglar and fervently hoping that her earlier performance, pleading for the stray cat who was an occasional night-time visitor to reveal its hiding place, hadn't already ruined Act Two.

"I'm warning you, matey, my friend Kitty is phoning the cops right now so if I were you I'd get out of here quick smart! _Kitty!" _she added, raising her voice to a roar. "KITTY! TELL THEM THE INTRUDER'S STILL ON THE PREMISES!"

The intruder gave a muffled giggle, quickly followed by a gulped-back sob. And that was, strangely, when Irene knew with overwhelming certainty that some devastating news had recently broken their heart. She was. you see, an expert on identifying broken hearts.

She owned one.

Oh, not the broken heart of the star-crossed lover though the star-crossed lover will know this damaged heart well, for it touches the darkest part of the night and hears the saddest sigh of the ocean.

Yet this pain runs ever deeper.

It begs for love while shutting out those who would love and all the while casting smiles to the world outside while the world within is lost

This is the pain of being alone.

In the quiet of the lonely night a passing truck, on its way to deliver cargo to some distant city, rumbled along the hilly road that bypassed Summer Bay and briefly captured in its light the troubled face of Gypsy Nash, the splash of tears held in her large green eyes, defiantly refusing to fall.

"Oh, lovey!"

Irene let go of the chair and crouched down beside her. She, like everyone, had only that day heard the devastating story that was Gypsy's. News travelled swiftly in a town small as Summer Bay, and the Diner was a meeting people for many folk. The students from Summer Bay High had been buzzing with the gossip as they bought milk shakes and French fries.

"You poor little mite. You must be so cold and hungry."

"No, no, Mrs Roberts, I'm _boiling. _And I've heaps of food with me. See?"

Gypsy, who sat beside a large canvas holdall, dressed in jeans, mud-splattered trainers and a hooded windcheater that looked suspiciously as though it had been padded out by more than one jumper (as indeed turned out to be the case) proudly held out a paper bag that contained four flattened cheese sandwiches and some squashed sausage rolls

"I'm just waiting till the rain goes off. I'm fine, no worries!" she continued brightly, her sodden clothes and haunted eyes belying her optimistic words. "Sorry I woke you and made you spill the milk."

"B****r the milk," Irene proclaimed.

"And break the saucer."

"B****r the saucer," Irene decreed.

"Kitty phoning the police, though!" The young girl's lips twitched.

Irene shrugged and rolled her eyes comically. "It was the best I could come up with under the circumstances. Lousy, I know. "

And suddenly they laughed together in their heartbreak, one so young yet and one who had seen more summers than she, both so heavily betrayed in a world that had once promised so much to each.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_**The Present**_

_**The River Restaurant, Whitelady Woods**_

_(Megan's grandmother, from whom she had inherited the gift of second sight, had told her that messages would often come unexpectedly and this fact was borne out now. A picture flashed suddenly and with startling clarity into Megan's mind as an overwhelming sadness enveloped her. A dark, moonless night, a black river, a weeping bride. The bride turns and lifts her veil._

_The face is Gypsy's._

_Chapter 39: Whitelady Woods)_

"Oh, Gypsy!"

Gypsy, who was gazing up at the stars while leaning her head against Jack Holden's shoulder, trying to spot the shooting star that he insisted he could see, started as Megan Ashcroft, who was sitting behind her on the steps of the abandoned restaurant, uttered her name.

She turned and laughed uncertainly as she met Megan's intense gaze. Megan had a habit of staring before speaking and it was unsettling.

"Hey, come on, Megsy, chill!" Gypsy protested uneasily. "You're freaking me out here."

"Sorry." Megan smiled apologetically. "Didn't mean to. I guess I've just had a bit too much to drink."

She took off her wide-brimmed hat and shook free her long frizzy hair, mentally berating herself. No matter how distressing her vision might be, what good would come of worrying Gypsy? Megan only ever saw the future, and even then the pictures would be hazy, coming together with painful slowness, the jigsaw rarely making any sense until after the event. She didn't have the power to alter destiny.

But her friend had been through so much. Even now, though Gypsy was happy living with Irene Roberts and, after the storminess of the last few years, was, thanks to Irene's influence, finally renewing her broken relationship with her foster parents who'd moved to Yabbie Creek after Tom left for Uni, Hayely and her gang managed to make her life a constant battle.

"My lady?"

Jack grinned, noticing Gypsy still seemed troubled and thinking to make her laugh. Gallantly, he offered her his hand and when she took it, he kissed her fingers like a knight of old and pulled her gently upwards, where her smiling lips willingly met his own.

"It's giving!" Noah Lawson suddenly yelled triumphantly, accompanied by a loud crash. The rotted door of the old restaurant had been banging continuously and he and his girlfriend Kit Hunter had been determined to push it open and explore.

"Come on, guys, why are we all sitting out here in the cold?" Kit called, intrigued.

Megan rose and followed on after her four companions. She was the last to enter. The dark, dilapidated building smelled of damp and brushed their heads with large cobwebs, the broken floorboards creaking under their wary footsteps, their whispers and giggles echoing through the emptiness of years.

A sense of the inevitable swept over Megan like a tide as their moonlit reflections flitted ghost-like along the thick grimy glass through which enchanted diners had once been given a spectacular view of a colourful laser-beam water fountain that now trickled dismally with rust and rain. And all that she knew with any certainty was that whatever terrible sorrow awaited Gypsy tonight, it waited outside somewhere in that night. Inside she was safe. For a little while.

"Que sera sera," she whispered sadly to herself, to quiet her anxious heart. "Whatever will be, will be."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** For Gypsy's confrontation with Joel and Natalie, see Chapter 26: Tramps and Thieves.


	43. Chapter 43

_Lonely night. Black, dark, calm, terrifying night. She knew instinctively where her bed was and she took only a few seconds to crawl onto it and lay staring upwards into the pool of darkness. She could hear the sounds of the party, the music, the talking, the laughter. Another world._

_Her arm brushed against something soft and warm and she knew immediately what it was. Freddie Teddy, that long ago childhood gift, that symbol of innocence. She hugged him tightly to her chest pulling her knees up around them and wrapping her arms around her legs. Creating a protective layer to keep the dark out. A wall to keep the badness out. Tears stung her eyes as she felt her whole body shake and she hugged Freddie even tighter, drawing comfort from him. Memories washed over her. Childhood memories._

_Memories of tonight._

_Kit locking her in the bathroom. Kit and Noah pashing. Kane Phillips pinning her against the tree and making her feel like...like something that had been put out with the rubbish. A surge of white hot anger flooded through her. He would pay. And that slag Kit Hunter would pay too. And Gypsy "town bike" Nash. The whole bloody world would pay! Freddie Teddy belonged to the past. She didn't need him anymore. She didn't need anyone._

_Hayley scratched her carefully polished and manicured fingernails into the teddy bear's face and felt a strange satisfaction as she plucked out its eyes..._

_(**Chapter 12: Revenge)**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thanks to Kat (Skykat) for her powerful description of Hayley cuddling Freddie Teddy.

**Chapter 43**

**With a Little Help from My Friends**

_What would you think if I sang out of tune_

_Would you stand up and walk out on me_

_Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song_

_And I'll try not to sing out of key_

**_With a Little Help from My Friends (Lennon/McCartney)_**

"Hayley? Hayley, Hayley!"

The distant call became ever more urgent. The shadows in the dream, as if fearing discovery, with fading voices, then whispers, then silence, drifted further and further away, until they melted, then blended, then vanished into the dark of the night.

Hayley sat up groggily, shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of light that blurred her vision, eventually managing to make out a figure. For some unfathomable reason, Crazy Cassie, tears streaming down her face, eyes and hair wilder than ever, was leaning over her and clutching a bedside lamp so close that Hayley could feel the heat of its bulb burning on her skin.

"For ****'s sake, jerk!" she protested in annoyance. "I can't see!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

Spluttering with embarrassed laugher, Cassie set down the lamp. Hayley scowled at her and blinked in disbelief at the startling brilliance of light that flooded the room as though they had journeyed to the core of the sun. The magnificently lit chandelier (an original feature of the eighteenth century mansion though now set with dozens of bulbs in place of candles); the silently flickering TV screen; the modern-day adjustable wall lights set to "super bright"; the still glowing bed-side lamp...What the hell was going on? Or, more to the point, was there anything at all that _wasn't_ going on?

"What are you you trying to do, for Crissakes?" She demanded. "Provide a landing light for passing planes? It's like bloody Las Vegas in here!"

"Sorry!"

Cassie giggled again and clicked off the bedside lamp (which made very little difference to the stunning brightness of the room) wishing she could come up with rapid fire witty comments like Hayley. She _had_ tried at random times since she started Summer Bay High to deliver what she'd fondly imagined to be a funny remark but, except for Martha who would smile loyally, Hayley's crew would stare at her as though she had just been dropped from outer space and then laugh _at_ her, not _with_ her.

Cassie sighed. Except for Martha 'Mac' McKenzie, sometimes she wondered if her friends really were her friends. But she shouldn't feel like that, should she? She should just be grateful, as Hayley told her, that The Beautiful People let a dag like Crazy Cassie hang with them in the first place. And Cassie _was_ grateful, but it was so hard when you didn't have much money or stunning looks and being with them made you feel gawky and awkward. Hayley didn't know how lucky she was, with her beauty and her brains and her filthy rich parents and her movie star younger brother and gorgeous, gorgeous hot older brother. Cassie would give anything to have Will for a boyfriend but he was madly in love with Gypsy Nash, who treated him like dirt, told him she'd never love him in a million years, and slept with other guys just to wind him up. He deserved way better than Gypsy. He deserved...well, someone like Cassie.

In fact, once when Will and Gypsy had broken up yet again and The Beautiful People convinced her she'd never have a boyfriend unless she made the first move and asked a guy out, that was the way it was done these days, Cassie had marched up to Will, taken a deep breath and declared, "I think you're seriously fit. Fancy a date?"

The nearby sniggering made her realise too late that her so-called friends had set her up for a fall. _Again._ She flushed beetroot red as Lisa Hanley and Emily Hood guffawed. Pretending to be genuinely interested in which boys she had the hots for, they'd drawn her into talking about her crushes on Kane Phillips and Will Smith. Kane hadn't bothered turning up for school as usual, but Will had been in the school cafeteria too, chatting with some mates. Go for it, Lisa and Emily said, he wouldn't be able to refuse without looking like a rat when so many people were around to hear. And Hayley would be stoked if Cassie began dating her brother, Emily added, plus it would be one up on Gypsy Nash, The Beautiful People's arch enemy.

After a startled silence and despite the amusement of his mates, Will had been really sweet about it, gently telling Cassie he was flattered, but he didn't think they were each other's type. It made her feel a bit better about things when Hayley laughed mockingly when she heard about Will's refusal and told Cassie there was no way he would go out with an ugly freak like Cassie Turner. Mac had been blazing when _she'd_ heard and, after telling Cassie it had just been a silly joke and why was she so obsessed with getting a boyfriend anyway, she'd really bagged Lisa and Emily out. No worries, she was ugly and stupid and didn't deserve a boyfriend, Cassie told Martha later, thinking her friend would be glad to hear it, but instead Martha furiously told her not to be so silly, and any guy who dated Cassie would be a very lucky guy. But she _was_ ugly and stupid, wasn't she? That was why her uncle had done what he did.

After Emily and Lisa's stunt, Cassie had felt all mixed up. She often did. Like now, her emotions were all over the place. She was giggling like an idiot and crying like a child. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands as she sat down on the spacious double bed.

"What's the matter now, you fat buffoon?" Hayley blustered.

She knew by no stretch of the imagination could pencil-thin Cassie ever be described as "fat" but she liked to keep minions in their place and the jibe was the best way to hit home, Cassie being addicted to chocolate and though always fretting she might start to pile on weight totally unable to resist it. And sometimes Crazy Cassie scared her. Why had she just decided to sit _on_ _the bed?_ Did the freak really swing both ways like Adam Kerr had hinted tonight? It was true Mac and Crazy Cassie _were _forever hugging and whispering together and no, Hayley was _not_ jealous of their friendship, she told herself firmly, as though someone else had just asked the question.

Alarmed that Crazy Cassie might actually be thinking of making a pass, she tugged on the satin sheets and edged as far away from her as possible.

"I was really worried about you, Hales. I'm so glad you're alright!"

And a broad smile of genuine relief lit up Cassie's face. The concern was lost on Hayley however.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She snapped impatiently.

Her companion shrugged. "I'd been trying to wake you for _ages_. I tried making heaps of noise with the music and stuff, but that didn't work so I tried putting on all the lights instead," she explained earnestly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to wake someone with either noise or light but _never_ both together, and not taking offence at Hayley's ingratitude. Mac was always telling her she was too nice to people, but Cassie knew how frightened Hayley had been earlier, when she thought she'd seen the ghost of Lady Eleanor, and she put it down to her still being shaken up. "You were screaming and yelling for your Mum and Dad to come back. What's the matter, Hales?" she asked sympathetically. "Did you have a blue with your olds?"

"It was a _dream,"_ Hayley bristled. "Dreams don't mean anything, you nosey cow. And stop calling me Hales. Only my friends call me Hales and I don't make friends with dags."

"I was only..."

Stung, Cassie stood up and wandered around the luxurious bedroom. Why did Hayley have to be so bitchy? She had everything. Except friends, the thought suddenly jumped into her mind. The so-called Beautiful People, hand-picked by Hayley to receive invites to her _"party of the year"_, had been way too busy enjoying themselves and had deliberately ignored how obviously upset their hostess had been when Cassie led her indoors after Hayley's scare of thinking she'd seen Lady Eleanor's ghost. Cassie couldn't leave her. Who else would stay if she didn't? Martha was the only other person who might care and Martha still hadn't come back like she'd promised she would. Cassie bit her lip, the same flurry of alarm resurfacing as it had done several times before tonight.

Martha, after taking a call from Jack, had said she was going to meet him and wouldn't be gone long but she'd been gone forever and every time Cassie rang her friend's mobile there was no answer. What if something terrible had happened...? No, she chided herself, she was just being melodramatic as usual. Her Gran often teased her about it, telling her she read too many thick romantic novels and watched too many OTT soaps. Of course Martha would be alright! Jack always looked after her, didn't he? And, okay, they'd had a tiff, but they _always _got back together. It wasn't like Martha to desert her friends, but...well, she _was_ with Jack and they _were_ made for each other. Cassie smiled to herself like a proud mother as she roamed about the room, choosing to blank Hayley's spoilt voice and whatever she was whining about now. And in the end, for once Hayley actually gave up, picked up the remote and clicked the TV to a disaster movie, turning the volume to its loudest level in protest at Cassie's unexpected rebellion but wary of goading her too far in case she walked out and left her all alone. She was still trembling inside after that sighting of Lady Eleanor's ghost and didn't believe for one second Cassie's story that it had only been someone dressed up.

"B-_itch!"_ she muttered.

But, deep in thought, Cassie was oblivious. It had been a weird night. After a disagreement with Hayley, Adam Kerr, who'd always had the hots for her and normally fawned ingratiatingly around her whenever they'd had words, desperate to get back in her good books and maybe rewarded with a quick kiss or whole pashing session, seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth too. But Cassie was glad about that. Just thinking about that creep made her skin crawl. That leering look he'd given her tonight when she'd been wearing nothing but a bathrobe had reminded her so much of her uncle.

She caught sight of her reflection in the three-winged mirror of the antique dressing table. Three Cassies looked back, and each with the same terrible secret in their large brown eyes. He was dead now, but he came back still in the nightmares. In the the tap-tap-tapping on the bedroom door and the creaking of the traitorous brass handle, no matter how many times repaired great age inevitably working it loose and weakening the lock once more; in the smell of whiskey on his breath; in his shadow falling across the calm of the sunlit fields; in his voice startling her as she sat in the hammock quietly reading and catching the last dying rays of the reddening sun; in the sudden terrifying touch of fhis hand beneath the dinner table squeezing her knee and smoothing upwards. In the small rooms of its cottage and isolation of The Old Farm, where was there to run,where was there to hide?

Each month, with sickening dread in the pit of her stomach and with shaking hands locking herself in the bathroom and crying with relief when there was a show; each night weeping noiselessly so that Gran's heart was never broken with the truth about her beloved only son, and, oh, God, the pain, there were times when it hurt so much she thought she would die. And did she, had she...? _Was_ it all her fault? Was it something she said, something she did, some way she looked...? Because Kane Phillips and Adam Kerr too had...

Stop. But..._Now!_ Now, Cassie Turner, right this very minute.

Martha said there was _no way_ what happened with Kane Phillips had been Cassie's fault. Martha had been blazing with anger at the very idea. And if her best friend said what happened with Kane Phillips wasn't Cassie's fault, was it possible, when she finally found courage enough to confide in her, Martha would say what happened with Cassie's uncle wasn't her fault either? Was she right? Was her uncle and NOT Cassie to blame?

The brand new thought surged through her like a warm cleansing shower of hope running through her veins. She caught a breath as her heartbeat quickened with excitement. All these wasted years she'd believed something that wasn't true! It had taken a friend to pull her out of the quagmire of emotions that had dragged her down. With friends, you could be whatever you wanted to be. Friends were there for you, backing you all the way, catching you when you fell, reassuring you when you were down, making you strong. But Hayley, poor, poor Hayley, she'd been through the same terrible ordeal with Kane Phillips and Hayley didn't have any _true _friends to confide in. Except Cassie and Martha and she constantly shut them out.

Cassie looked down, absently studying the dressing table's intricate pattern of entwined plants and fruits carved into the rich mahogany wood. The nearby wastepaper bin, like all the modern-day appliances, so oddly out of place in the grand room with its chandelier and antique furniture, had overflowed. She stooped down to return the overspill of what looked like stuffing and golden brown wool. The gold-brown bits felt strangely rough. She ran the texture curiously through her fingers. No, wait, it wasn't wool, it was...

She suddenly felt herself rocked off balance as the contents were snatched out of her hand.

"Leave that!" Hayley ordered furiously. "What do you want to play in garbo for, retard?"

By a hair's breadth, Cassie managed to catch hold of the dressing table and regain her footing.

"But, Hayely, it's..." She began.

"It's rubbish!" Hayley insisted, an uncharacteristic tremor of uncertainty slipping into her voice. Cassie was staring as though she could see right through her.

"He's cute, isn't he?" Martha picked up the golden-coloured teddy bear which lay on the pillow of the pink-satin-sheeted bed. The three teenagers had trooped in for Hayley to show off her latest outfit that had come straight from an exclusive Milan fashion house. "I keep meaning to ask, Hales, was he a prezzie from a guy?"

Hayley grimaced disdainfully. "As if! _I_ expect guys to buy _me_ expensive gifts, classy jewellery or perfumes, not cheap trash that does for sluts like Gypsy Nash. Nah. That's just Freddie Teddy. The olds got him for me when I was a bub. Ugly, old, moth-eaten bloody thing, I'd chuck it out except they'd only throw hissy fits. What are you grinning at, fruitloop?" she added as she lifted the beautiful cream dress that she would be wearing to Nick's film première next month, careful to let the pearl and sequin embroidery catch the light, and looking forward to seeing her friends green with envy.

Cassie shrugged, realising she'd been smiling. It was obvious that Freddie Teddy was a much-loved and much cuddled childhood toy! He was never in the same place each time they visited. Sometimes he'd only been moved by a fraction of an inch, but Cassie, intrigued by the tiny chink in Hayley's armour, and intrigued too by what made her so needy would look for him specially. And not without concern. Cassie often sat with Penny the cat in her lap to rest her teary face in her soft black fur, taking comfort from the warmth of contact when there was no one else she could turn to.

"Oh, Hayley!" Cassie couldn't keep the overwhelming sympathy out of her voice though she knew her pity would only irritate her. "It's Freddie Teddy! Who'd be sick enough to do that?"

"Jerk!" Hayley spat, her eyes cold as ice. "I did it myself."

"But why?"

Cassie was staring at her so hard now that Hayley's hand itched to slap her.

"I don't have to explain myself to _you!"_ She replied, turning away.

And then she said no more but screamed in terror as all power cut out and plunged them into total darkness.


	44. Chapter 44

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I've split this chapter into two parts as I'm about due to update but, being away on a short holiday, I haven't had as much time to write. As a result, most of the Barry/Irene "dinner date" will be in Part Two. Hope you enjoy!

_**You, Being One of the Beautiful People are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies **__**Party of the Year**_

_Long after the Baystormer had rolled away along the distant coast, the heavy rain that had pooled in the broken guttering was still seeking refuge and so slowly slithered along its diverted course on to the roof until it came to the tiniest gap where it dripped steadily down through on to the old wooden looked up at the leak above the Diner entrance without the problem really registering. Barry and Kim could be anywhere. The night was dark as ink and it was probably wiser to stay in the Diner until morning brought its welcome rays of sunlight. She sighed heavily as from her shelter she vainly searched the immediate vicinity of the night with a solitary candle like an inn-keeper of old greeting tired, dusty travellers. The irony was not lost on Irene."You look like Wee Willie Winkie, matey!" She muttered. Then she sighed again. "Oh, Barry! I only wish..." She swallowed back tears."I love you," she above her, the first beam, softened and weakened by the hours of rain, began to work loose..._ _**Chapter 37: Showdown **_

**CHAPTER 44**

**THE ROSE****(PART ONE) **

_It's the heart, afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance_

_It's the dream, afraid of waking, that never takes a chance…_

_Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows_

_Lies the seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose_

_The Rose (Amanda McBroom)_

Catching her breath, Irene Roberts breathlessly pressed a fist against her chest as the bout of coughing eased. Beams of rotted wood had pinned her legs to the ground and she could only sit and watch helplessly as the last tiny pieces of white paint and plaster fluttered around her like angel snowflakes. She gave an involuntary shudder as the latest downpour brought in its wake some creature that dropped on to the back of her head, crawled down her neck and finally used the blade of her shoulders as a launching pad to land with a gentle clatter before scurrying away.

Clouds of thick grey dust permeated the air, stinging her streaming eyes, but apart from the heavy weight of the beam pressing on her legs and a badly twisted ankle she was otherwise unhurt. The leak responsible for the damage was still thundering furiously down but the roof collapse that had been pushed through by heavy rain pooling in broken guttering had been confined to directly above the front entrance of the Diner and the rest of the building was mercifully unscathed.

A calm seemed to fall over the waiting night. Through the gaping hole in the roof silent stars shimmered in its hushed velvet sky as though those she had loved and lost would watch over her yet. And perhaps they did. The candle she had been carrying to light her way in the darkness had fallen harmlessly into the soft muddy earth outside, its solitary flame quickly quenched before any spark or flame caught. Yellow candlelight flickered peacefully in the antique silver candelabras that had travelled with Alf Stewart's forefather in the ship that had carried him and his fellow explorers in their quest to find new lands across the oceans to the sun-bathed coast they named Sun Bay and later Summer Bay.

A different dream captured Irene's soul. A dream she hadn't known breathed until tonight.

She had told him she loved had told him when he couldn't hear, when it may have been too late. She yearned for his touch, to inhale his scent, to feel his body close to hers. She ached to be with him, protect him, grow old with him. But how and when and where she had first fallen in love with Barry Hyde she didn't know.

Till through the wispy dust motes where the shadows of yesterday danced a memory slowly crept.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twelve-year-old Irene McFarlane sometimes felt as though her little brother Benji had wrapped himself up inside a great invisible overcoat. She could almost see the image in her mind, its collar turned up and buttoned right up to his nose, only the top of his head visible, his eyes shining with hidden dreams and unshed tears.

"What did they do?" She blocked his way as he pushed his way through the front door of 10 Morningside Crescent and made to head upstairs.

Benji's mouth formed a round "O" of astonishment and his head jerked upwards. How did she know? How did she _always_ know?

"I'm a witch," Irene said calmly. "What did they do?"

"Nothing, our Irene. Don't tell Mam!" He added hastily, now that he'd been rumbled dropping the small brown hands that had hidden the secrets, for one had been covering a rip in the elbow of his coat while the other had clutched the coat hood hanging by a tenuous thread, the peculiar "thinking" stance and muddied knees as he staggered through the off-latch door having alerted Irene at once.

He blinked as another raindrop splashed down from his hair, his black curls flattened by the rain, to join those already racing in silver rivers down the contours of his face. Benji didn't own a standard school raincoat. None of the MacFarlane children did. The meagre grant that was meant to buy them didn't stretch to full school uniforms. Benji owned instead a second-hand duffle coat that had been worn every winter for the last three years and that was now way too tight for even his small, slight frame, marking him out every bit as much as his dark skin in the snooty white middle-class neighbourhood.

Not that it had been a particularly good duffle coat, to begin with, Irene observed, with a twang in her heart for the sibling she fretted about most out of all six younger brothers and sisters she fussed over like a mother hen. A corner of its right hem had already been smeared with patches of white paint in a previous ownership, the reason it had been donated to the high street charity shop, and an ironed-on name patch, stuck irremovably to the back of its inner lining, bore the words in neat indelible marker pen _Peter Harris Grade 1_. At some stage too the unknown Peter or a compatriot had dabbled in art, using the same indelible pen to decorate the inside of the hood with a spiky-haired figure of no nose, uneven eyes and matchstick legs smiling grotesquely as it reached with outstretched arms towards an unsuspecting world.

Irene gently wriggled Benji out of the duffle coat, absently wondering whether the figure was meant to be mother, father, friend or self-portrait.

"And how exactly did you plan to stop Mum from finding out?"

She examined the damage to the hood with critical eye and authoritative voice. Their mother had taken five-year-old Terry and three-year-old Ruthie to a doctor's appointment and her eldest daughter had been given the afternoon off school to mind baby Christabel and give Benji and their ten-year-old twin sisters a meal when they arrived home.

Strange as it may seem, it wasn't fear that kept the McFarlane clan from telling their mother everything. No, far from it. It was actually a desire to _shield_ her. Evelyn was a gentle, old-fashioned, almost ethereal, soul who loved to read the classical literature and ancient history books that she regularly borrowed from the library, and who, although she tried her very best to hack it, never could grasp the rudiments of cooking and ironing and other practical tasks needed to raise a family. She loved deeply her seven children who had five different fathers between them, frequently going without herself to give her brood enough and more, but she fell in love far too easily and trusted the world far too implicitly. Not being capable of any kind of meanness or cruelty herself, Evelyn imagined nobody else was either. It was a charade the McFarlanes happily went along with.

As soon as she was old enough to take charge, Irene, who seemed to have bagged all of her mother's common sense as well as her own, did.

"Oh, no worries! I'm just gonna walk like this." Benji replied gravely in answer to Irene's question, demonstrating his earlier sloping gait.

His sister rolled her eyes Heavenwards. "As if she wouldn't wonder why you were walking like a dying duck! Use your noddle, Benjamin McFarlane!"

Despite his recent terror in the (fortunately successful) struggle to escape a bashing, of being chased, pushed and rolled over in mud, dodging a fist in his face, having his coat tugged at and ripped, then almost being knocked down by a car whilst running away, Benji snorted. Noodle sounded like a polite word for something else and being an eight-year-old boy he was very much into forbidden words.

Irene, correctly identifying the reason for his smothered laughter, rapped her knuckles on his head.

"Pay attention, you flamin' great gallah! Mam's gone to take our Terry and our Ruthie to see the doc so we're good for an hour or so. I can patch up that elbow with a quick needle and thread and I'll run the hood through the sewing machine. You keep an eye on Christabel for me. The little bugger's had a grand sleep, a bottle and a nappy change, but she's up for climbing out of that bloody playpen again so you better let her out of jail before she blows her parole. Just find something to keep her occupied while I'm busy."

"I could play something for her to have a dance to!" Benji suggested, the burdens of the world suddenly falling from his little body like magic and his face lighting up at the thought of his beloved music.

"Best get your clarinet then, matey," Irene agreed, thanking the gods that the clarinet loaned to Benji from Harper Road Primary School hadn't been on his person when the bullies struck and for the new music teacher, Mr Halford, who had discovered his talent for singing and was busy nurturing it, which in turn was developing Benji's confidence and helping him make a few friends. Sadly his two best mates Kenny and Joe were away on a school trip that Evelyn hadn't been able to afford and the twins finished half an hour later hence the nowadays somewhat unusual circumstances of Benji walking home alone. It seemed poor Benji always would be a target for racist thugs.

But Irene could afford to grin as she shook the coat free of raindrops and clicked on the light of the little back room, known quaintly in the McFarlane family as the "cubby hole" and the scene of much heartbreak for Evelyn as she tried in vain to "make do and mend" and much relief as the ever practical Irene came to the rescue and subtly delegated her mother to helper while making her feel she couldn't possibly manage the task in hand without her. Music was Benji's great love and he would soon forget all his troubles and lose himself in it.

Straight talking mixed in with large spoonfuls of common sense, stirred rapidly with heavy doses of kindness, sprinkled liberally with tolerance and understanding, it was a successful recipe she still followed today.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Unlike the "smart casual dress" as specified in the dinner invitations and as worn by other diners, her companion had chosen to wear a suit and tie that would have done justice to the most formal of occasions and, seemingly unaware of the relaxed atmosphere as people laughed and chatted, he sat ramrod straight, his hands neatly folded on the table in front of him. Pretending to study the drinks menu, Irene Roberts _nee_ McFarlane watched in amused affection as Principal Hyde looked around at the Yabbie Creek Academy's school canteen that was currently filled with couples seated at romantically-themed tables-for-two and students wearing name badges acting as their waiters and waitresses, finally bringing his gaze back down to rest embarrassedly on the single red rose poking out of the water in the small cut glass vase beside the centrepiece ice bucket…


	45. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER 45**

**THE ROSE (PART TWO)**

_**It's the heart, afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance**_

_**It's the dream, afraid of waking, that never takes a chance…**_

_**Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows**_

_**Lies the seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the roseThe Rose **_

**(words and music copyright Amanda McBroom, also recorded by Westlife, Elaine Paige, Bette Midler etc)**

Unlike the "smart casual dress" as specified in the dinner invitations and as worn by everyone else, Summer Bay High Principal Barry Hyde had chosen to wear a sombre suit and tie that would have done justice to the most formal occasion and, detached from the relaxed atmosphere as people laughed and chatted, he sat ramrod straight, his hands neatly folded on the table in front of him. Pretending to scan the menu, Irene Roberts watched as her dining companion looked around at Yabbie Creek Academy's normally unremarkable school canteen (in fact, in keeping with the building's 1850s construction and original use as a holding base for would-be settlers, it often seemed downright austere) which was now filled with couples seated at romantically-themed tables-for-two and students wearing name badges and acting as waiters and waitresses. Eventually, and still blissfully unaware of Irene's close scrutiny, Barry finally brought his gaze back down to rest embarrassedly on the single red rose poking out of the water in the small cut glass vase near the centrepiece ice bucket.

It was as though, Irene thought, as if he had wrapped himself up inside a great invisible overcoat, its collar turned up and buttoned right up to his nose, only the top of his head visible, his eyes shining with hidden dreams and unshed tears. Lord, she hadn't thought of that simile for years! It was how she'd often thought of Benji.

Irene automatically sent up a silent "love you" to the brother who had died so tragically by his own hand at the magical and terrible age of eighteen. She wasn't religious and what little belief she once held had died the day her whole family (except for the twins, who some years previously had been taken abroad by their father never to be returned) were killed in a car crash on the same day Benji committed suicide, but it was a habit she had gotten into. Often in everyday life a word, a scent, a touch, would waken some memory to live and breathe and smile again and she would immediately cast an inner prayer to her loved ones to let them know they were in her heart cleared his throat.

"It's a very nice place here, isn't it?" he remarked, for all the world as though they were booked into some expensive plush restaurant.

Irene shared an amused glance with Laura, the student busy dishing up their food, a small, plump girl with long blonde hair tied back in an emerald green scrunchie, who obviously had a thing for emerald green to judge by her large emerald green clip-on ear-rings and matching chunky emerald green bracelets, as well as a thing for the violinist serenading the diners, a sandy-haired youth wearing name badge of Simon, to judge by her frequent coy glances in his direction.

Amidst the general chatter and laughter in the canteen of Yabbie Creek Academy a very serious message was being conveyed. A blown-up photograph of a beautiful, large-eyed, skeletal young African child holding a wooden bowl to her mouth was the first sight that greeted guests as they were shown to their tables. The Academy students had arranged the Fun Romantic Disgusting School Dinner _"To remind us" _as their advertising literature read, _"that in the words of the poet Robbie Burns, "Some hae meat that canna eat and some wad eat that want it"_ in aid of the charity they had founded. HeartBeat aimed to set up schools in remote African villages, with the hope each school would eventually become the heart of the village, a base where education, food and medicine could all be provided. Heads of education establishments and their partners had been invited to the dinner by the charity organizers so that they could explain how their own students and they themselves could become involved.

Principal Barry Hyde was here by accident and, bashful at the best of times despite his ferocious persona, felt ill at ease as he straightened his tie for the third or fourth time. Donald Fisher, the departing principal of Summer Bay High, had already promised to attend the dinner before he left for the United States and school secretary Irene had already agreed to accompany him. It was his first social engagement as principal and he was determined to make a good impression. He pulled himself together.

"Enjoy your meal," the fair-haired young girl with the alarmingly large ear-rings and tribal bracelets was saying.

Barry eyed the lumpy mashed potatoes flecked with green, the overcooked cabbage, undercooked sprouts and the two pieces of fatty unidentifiable meat swirling in watery gravy.

"Thank you. I'm sure we will. It look delicious," he said politely.

The violin music that had hitherto been screeching like a wailing cat suddenly screeched like a wailing cat in great distress as Simon shook with suppressed laughter. Principal Hyde looked momentarily startled but quickly regained his composure.

The student who was wine waiter for the night approached their table as Laura, producing notepad and pencil from apron pocket, and pretending she just happened to be going that way and _not _following Simon, moved on to the next.

"Would sir care to sample the wine?"

Nick Appleby was a straight A student but had always been far more interested in chasing his childhood dream of becoming a comedian. He was thoroughly immersed in the comic role he had created out of his own imagination, that of a snooty wine waiter complete with exceptionally snooty (albeit unidentifiable) accent and had been "harassing" diners with the same bottle of wine all evening. As Barry gave assent, he condescendingly poured a measure of warm, corked wine.

A bottle of previously ordered wine already leaned contentedly in the centrepiece ice bucket. To compensate for the complete lack of _haute cuisine_, the Academy students had at least promised decent drinks and that later a modest but perfectly edible buffet would be served to their guests while, in keeping with the no waste policy, any uneaten food from the Fun Romantic Disgusting School Dinner would, as pre-arranged, be put in special bins for distribution to a nearby pig farm.

Nick, expecting the usual good-natured banter from the diners that had punctuated the evening, was all set to laugh with the latest couple and uncork the good bottle. To his astonishment, however, and despite several bits of golden cork floating merrily round in his glass, the guest swirled the contents, downed it in one gulp, nodded, smiled and indicated he should pour again.

Delighted at this unexpected approval and playing the snooty waiter to the hilt, Nick obliged with alacrity.

"H'and h'if I may say so, sir, an _h'excellent _choice!" He declared, filling the wine glass with a theatrical flourish and watching as, without batting an eyelid, Barry took several sips and drained the glass.

Irene, seldom at a loss for words, sat dumbfounded for a whole minute. And then she chuckled. Obviously she'd misread Barry Hyde and a wicked sense of humour beat underneath that pompous exterior!

"Mrs Roberts, please!" Barry hissed. "This is a very serious occasion!"

He jumped as a ripple of applause and laughter greeted the remark. Poor Barry had been concentrating so hard on protocol he'd been unaware that a silence had fallen all around the nearby tables as other couples, already victims of Nick's practical joke, had begun to watch and listen in amusement.

"Thanks for joining in, Mr Hyde!" Nick grinned, glancing quickly at the name on the place-mat and dropping his acquired accent. "And if you ever feel like a change from teaching," he added, popping the cork off the bottle of good wine, producing two clean glasses from his tray and filling them; "you're more than welcome to tread the boards with me if I ever make it in comedy."

Another round of applause, louder than before and peppered with cheers, met with Nick's words. Quite at home in the limelight, he turned and bowed to his enthusiastic audience, and began a new act as the snooty waiter trying to pretend he wasn't drunk.

Although baffled by the acclamation, Barry had nevertheless accepted it graciously, but now that Nick had left he turned to Irene, perplexed.

"Mrs Rob…Irene," he whispered uncertainly, the laughter almost drowning out his words, a worried frown creasing his brow and a red glow rising up from his neck. "I have a confession to make. I …uh…I'm afraid I _wasn't_ joking. I was…was trying to be…well, how I thought I was _expected _to be. What did I do wrong?"

And he straightened his tie yet again, looking at her in askance.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she smiled.

"In the language of the Summer Bay High students, Kim says I should grow a sense of humour," he mumbled, embarrassed to admit it.

"_Kim _said that?" Irene tried in vain to picture shy, placid Kim being impatient with his father.

"Not in so many words." Barry retracted. "Irene, I want so much to be a good father and a good principal. Will you help me…?"

She placed her hand over his.

""Barry, trust me. All you have to do is be yourself."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By night, the perfume of the roses would often steal indoors as though seeking the lost wraith of a dream.

Kim always left his bedroom windows wide open. He loved to inhale the pure, free air. If he could, he would have abandoned house and home and every night slept under the stars. But his father said people who were lucky enough to be able to should sleep in beds and not alone on cold, hard, unforgiving ground.

He clutched Kim's arm as he spoke, almost as if afraid he was going to leave immediately and, startled by his intense reaction to the casual comment he might buy himself a tent and go camping in the bush sometime, Kim found himself saying he probably never would. No doubt Dad was quoting from some poem or other; he was forever reading thick, worthy volumes that Kim couldn't even begin to understand - and not just for setting school assignments either, but sometimes just for _pleasure! _Maybe Kim took after his Mum for hating poetry and all things academic. There was no chance of him ever becoming a high school principal like his father.

Barry Hyde might still hold out the vague hope of him gaining a place at college (they both accepted Uni wasn't even a distant glimmer on the horizon) but outdoors working with animals was where Kim wanted to be.

He'd recently taken up fishing though he threw anything he caught straight back into the water; the fascination was simply in other living creatures, be they animal, fish or fowl. Of course he'd got to know others who fished regularly at the river, but his painful shyness made him uneasy in company and as far as Kim was concerned the great thing about fishing was, once the serious business of hooking a catch got underway, nobody talked. His fellow anglers tended to be much older, men with wives and kids and mortgages, so it was easy to take a rain check on invitations to barbies or beers with excuses about schoolwork. They assumed he was going to see his girl and teased him good-humouredly about it and Kim grinned and let them think it was true. Sheesh, if only! Hell, he'd never dated a girl, never even _kissed _a girl, not properly. He was way too shy.

It didn't help matters that the chicks at Summer Bay High had recently begun referring to him as a Greek God, no doubt winding him up just for the fun of seeing him blush. The only girl he ever really felt comfortable with was Cassie Turner but dating Cassie Turner wouldn't impress his Dad. Dating beautiful, sexy, millionaire's daughter Hayley Smith would and Kim wanted so much to impress his father. That was why it had been so hard to sleep the week he received the invite to Hayley's party.

The night he and Dad talked, he'd tossed and turned, listening to the distant roar of the sea until he'd finally drifted into dreams as turbulent as the waves.

The flash of the outside security light pulled him rudely awake. Forgetting the troubles that had been on his mind, Kim sprang to the window with a grin. The ginger tom who was owned by - no, wait, no self-respecting cat was owned, cats owned their owners - the ginger tom who _owned_ the elderly Miss Dora Parker, proprietor of Ye Olde Summer Bay Lolly Shoppe where they both lived, was obviously out on the prowl again!

Kim liked to keep tabs on "his animals" as he referred to the stray cats, dogs and other assorted creatures that were regularly brought to Yabbie Creek Animal Rescue Centre where he volunteered and which was the main animal welfare station for the many small seaside towns that dotted the coast. He had been helping out there the day the ginger tom, who's legendary reputation for fatherhood had gone before him and who had been successfully dodging the warden vans all the way from Settler Point to Summerhill, was brought in. It was obvious from the first Zeus had attitude.

Lucy Scott, one of the other weekend helpers and who was studying Greek mythology at Uni, had taken one look at the prisoner's arrogant expression despite his battle scars and flea bites and named him at once. Nobody disagreed. Zeus suited both him and his history.

Since then of course the cat had been neutered and, according to all the veterinary manuals, should now have been a homebody who rarely strayed from the fireside. But Zeus had never troubled himself to read veterinary manuals and often slipped through the cat flap to re-live his misspent youth (albeit as an observer nowadays) until the microchip under his skin and the name on his collar identified him as surely as any miscreant's electronic ankle tag. He would be taken back home - supposedly in disgrace, but, not having read any dictionaries either, Zeus didn't know the meaning of the word, nor did Miss Parker and her customers help matters by making even more fuss of the prodigal pet every time he was returned. Kim was all set to tap in an alert for the night wardens to be on the look-out again and had already grabbed his mobile when the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

It was his father who had triggered the silent alarm.

The false light of the security lamp cast a smoky greyness around where Barry Hyde sat on the bench overlooking the rockery with its sparkling waterfall and tiny stone animals, the eye-catching feature constructed by the previous owner of the house, the now famous Jeremy Quentin, whose talents had long since taken him to New Zealand, where these days he produced a hugely popular TV gardening show. Every inch of the beautiful open plan garden had been lovingly created by JQ, as the public affectionately nicknamed him, and the flowers, fruit trees and rose bushes he'd nurtured combined to coat the night with a heavenly aroma.

Barry Hyde sat with shoulders hunched and head down. Kim hesitated, unused to seeing his strong, confident father looking so weak and vulnerable and uncertain whether to disturb his solitude. And then the scent of the roses lingered on the air like whispers and curled fingers of love around his heart.

It was a balmy summer's night. Down the rolling hills the trees swaying in the gentle breezes like giant guardians of the earth offered tantalizing glimpses of the moonlit sea and the rise and fall of the foam-tipped waves as they rushed to the shore. Kim said nothing, but sat down beside his father and looked down towards the sea and Barry raised his head briefly in acknowledgement. And yet, oddly, for they rarely shared confidences, the silence was companionable.

Barry Hyde cupped tenderly in his hands a champagne flute that held a single red rose. Kim recognised it. A rose was regularly placed in the same tall, slender glass that was always set before the photograph of the mother and brother he never knew. For some reason, they never used a vase. Over the years the odd one or two received as presents gathered dust or were given away.

At last Barry looked up at him, eyes glistening. "I loved your mother."

"I know," Kim replied in the same hushed tone, and shuffled uneasily, embarrassed at seeing his father so close to tears.

"This glass. It was the very last glass she drank from. We toasted your birth. After we lost Jonathan so tragically…" His voice trailed away, husky with emotion. "Nobody should have to sleep alone in the cold, hard, unforgiving round."

_He had teasedher about the lipstick stain as they stood together mutedly washing and drying the dishes of the "celebration meal" (a takeaway banquet for two delivered to their door and a bottle of supermarket champagne that had been cooling in the fridge) so as not to disturb the deep slumbers of their newborn son. _

_With a vague smile as though she hadn't really been listening, Kerry swirled the champagne flute into the soapy water once more. Days later he found her trying to drown Kim in exactly the same way as he'd always suspected she'd killed Jonathan, flown into a wild rage and killed her. _

_Her body was buried alone on a silent hill, the grave dug by his own guilty, blood-stained hands. _

Kim bit his lip. Those words again. One day he'd ask Cassie, the only person he was sure wouldn't laugh when he asked, what poem, play or book they came from and what exactly they meant because he was damned if he knew, but they obviously meant a great deal to his father and he wanted so much to share his father's pain, to try and touch this invisible barrier that even at times like this prevented them truly reaching out to each other.

"Dad…?" He worriedly broke through the long silence his father had lapsed into, bringing Barry reeling back from the mists of time.

"Is it wrong for me to love someone else?" Barry Hyde spoke with uncharacteristic self-doubt as he looked down at the rose cradled in his hands.

"Irene Roberts?" Kim guessed, smiling. "Dad, I'd give my whole world for you and Irene to get back together. She made you happy."

"It's not that simple, son." His father sighed. "I don't deserve Irene's love. She doesn't know everything about me."

"It's easier than you think, Dad," Kim replied earnestly. _"Tell _her everything about you. If she loves you too, nothing will change that." He took a deep breath. Times when he gave advice to his father were rare. "It's like I've always said. You should relax more. Laugh a bit. Stop taking everything so seriously. Irene made you do that. You were perfect together."

A wave of both relief and fear crept into Barry's soul as he realised the truth in what his son said. "Sometimes, Kim, you can actually talk a whole lot of sense!"

And in a moment the father-son bond snapped like cotton thread.

"I'm sorry."

"S'okay. If I'm dumb, I'm dumb." Kim shrugged matter-of-factly and tried not to show the hurt, yawning and stretching as he got to his feet. "Guess I'd better get some sleep, I'm bushed. Got the swimming practice first thing tomorrow and then a busy day ahead at the rescue centre."

"Kim."

His son turned back, flicking his blond fringe out of his eyes.

"You're not dumb. You never have been. You're wise beyond your years. I will tell Irene everything about me."

Kim nodded, pleased. "Cool. You guys were made for each other."

He was taken aback when his father unexpectedly swept him into his arms.

"Good night, Kim," he said awkwardly, breaking away just as suddenly as if ashamed of his fatherly display of emotion. "Sleep well."

"'Night, Dad." Kim tried to make out the embrace had been no big deal to him but despite his best efforts he couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. "Don't stay out here too long. They reckon we're gonna have heavy thunderstorms breaking this long spell of hot weather. Maybe even a Baystormer soon."

"I won't. I just need to gather my thoughts."

They smiled at each other in genuine affection.

Barry watched as the son he loved more than life itself headed back inside the house.

"And you too, Kim," he whispered. "I need to tell you everything about me too." He dropped his gaze. "And I could lose you both when you find out what I am."

He took the rose from the glass and brushed it tenderly against his lips. Two or three red petals fluttered and twirled to the grass. Despite the warm breaths of the night, he was shivering.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pinned helplessly by the fallen wooden beam, Irene Roberts gazed up at the hole in the roof, her memories consumed by Barry.

"_In the language of the Summer Bay High students, Kim says I should grow a sense of humour."_

"_Kim said that?" _

"_Not in so many words. Irene, I want so much to be a good father and a good principal. Will you help me…?"_

"_Barry, trust me. All you have to do is be yourself."_

Was that the moment she had first fallen in love with him? The moment their eyes met and she saw that hidden underneath the brusque, stern principal of Summer Bay High was an honest, shy and gentle man? Out of the corner of her vision, she suddenly caught the fleeting yellow glimpse of a shooting star as it streaked across the night sky. It was gone in seconds. Long enough for her to make a wish for Barry Hyde to be kept safe and yet not long enough for the wish to carry on the air.

Wishing upon a star. It was silly. It was childlike. It was all the hope she had left in the world.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dad, you can't give up now! Try to hang on. Will's gone to get help. Come on, Dad! Come on!"

So tonight, the night of Hayley's party, he had finally made out with a girl. And not just any girl either, but sexy, beautiful Gypsy Nash, who could have had her pick of any guy - even if she _had_ only used him to make her arch enemy Hayley jealous. What did it matter now? What did the fight with Jack or the blue with Will matter? Nothing else mattered anymore as Kim tried desperately to pump the water from his father's bloated chest.

But the beat of Barry Hyde's pulse grew fainter.

The moon slipped quietly away. The noisy chirping of the crickets and the faraway hooting of an owl faded into silence as an icy breeze chilled the shadow-darkened night, slithering through the blades of grass and troubling the black river.

Kim didn't look to see the cause. If he had, he might have seen standing beside the ancient path the shimmering white ghost of a bride.


	46. Chapter 46

**_This story is based on an original idea by Skykat_**

**You, Being One of the Beautiful People are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies**

**_Party of the Year_**

**CHAPTER 46**

**AWAKENING **

_"Jeeesus!"_

Kane Phillips' whole body jerked in response to the icy water that abruptly covered every inch of it, pulling him out of his steady drift into a strange world that had been alternating between unnaturally bright Technicolor memories of childhood and an eerie silent blackness. His teeth were chattering but his arrogance hadn't quite deserted him.

"I asked for a drink of water, darlin', not a bloody bath!"

"Fine. How about a cold shower instead, loser?" Martha McKenzie threw down the now emptied deep square container he'd brought from the freshwater pool and picked up the remaining utensil, a plastic Volvo bottle, and poured its contents slowly over his head.

A flash of fury wiped the smirk off his face.

"---- off, you stupid b---h! If I could get up, I'd…"

"Careful, Kane. I'm the one calling ALL the shots."

It was the third time Mac had thrown water over someone in less than twenty-four hours (Jack Holden to teach him a lesson for pashing Gypsy Nash; Kane Phillips twice for being a lowlife: two down, how many more to go?) and yet _she_ was the one shivering. And crying. Hating herself for being too weak to deprive him of water to avenge her friends, hating him for what he'd done. And hating herself for crying.

He watched her warily. It was well know that when Martha "Mac" McKenzie got into a strop she took no prisoners. Jack Holden had once been forced to apologize profusely or face the prospect of walking home stark naked in the pouring rain when he got Martha so mad she stole all his clothes and locked him out. Adam Kerr had once put his hand into his school bag and found his hand crawling with maggots (courtesy of Kim Hyde's mysteriously missing fishing jar) after he mocked her best friend Crazy Cassie. Then there was the guy in the Diner who'd made a leering sexist comment. Jeez, it was doubtful if _he_ would ever sow the seeds of future generations! Oh, there were heaps of tales about Martha McKenzie. Most of all that she had three older brothers who would immediately beat up on anyone who upset their kid sister. And that, to date, she hadn't needed any of them for protection.

Uncharacteristically, he wisely weighed up his words before he spoke again. "Look, whatever I did, sorry."

"And you think that's all it takes to make everything alright? Jerk!"

She retrieved the bloodied Swiss army knife that she had earlier flung to the ground in horror that she had stabbed him and he flinched involuntarily. That knife had already been plunged into his stomach once and he was way too crook to defend himself if she chose to use it again. He was barely holding it together as it was.

She sat down beside him, her long, dark hair falling across her face, and began busily scraping patterns in the sand like a small child concentrating on some new childish game. Except she was no small child and she was using the sharp point of a knife to create criss-cross lines that left uneven trails of freshly-tasted blood in their wake.

"Mac…?" Somehow his voice wasn't his own. He hadn't heard fear in it like that since he was a little kid.

"I could have killed you," she murmured. "You could have died."

He almost told her there was still a damn good chance that he might and was it her time of month or too much Crazy Cassie company that had turned her psycho? But suddenly he wasn't in control anymore. That same wild spark that had always attracted him now terrified him.

"Mac. Tell me. What'd I do? I _really_ don't know. I swear."

She met his gaze and her heart flipped in a moment's pity. Cassie was right about his eyes. They were so blue and so unexpectedly gentle. As if there was a completely different person behind that tough, sarcastic front. And in that moment of weakness she crumbled completely. No matter what he'd done, she couldn't bring herself to kill another human being. Inwardly apologizing to Cassie and Hayley, she grabbed the discarded shirt and quickly, afraid she might change her mind, tied it tightly around his wound, stemming the flow of scarlet blood.

"Wow, that was pretty much expert. Thanks." Kane Phillips spoke in conciliatory tones, uncertain whether she was going to turn on him agan.

She shrugged. "I'm used to it. Back on the farm where I grew up, we often had to fix injured animals."

He let the thinly-veiled insult pass. "I still don't know what I did to hurt you though, Mac," he said carefully, taking advantage of his companion's quieter mood.

"You didn't exactly hurt _me._ But you hurt my best friends Cassie and Hayley. Badly. And if you hurt my friends then you hurt me."

His brow creased, trying to make sense of her words and, with difficulty, still frozen from the soaking, still weak from the loss of blood, using a large rock as both support and backrest, he raised himself to his elbows and squinted at the sea. Lazy breaking rays of sunlight were stretching pale yellow fingers down from the sky and loudly squawking gulls were skimming the green foamy ocean, diving, swooping and rising in pursuit of an early breakfast, but the cold breeze of night wasn't yet done, and a stinging wind swept suddenly across the waves, lifting her hair to whip her face, leaving the taste of salt on their tongues.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Kane." Martha's earlier sympathy began to wane. "Don't pretend you don't know. You raped them, you sick, sick b-----d."

_"What?"_

But Martha McKenzie obviously didn't believe him and Martha McKenzie was still playing with a knife.

"I didn't touch Hayley. I scared her, sure. But I didn't touch her."

"Keep talking, Kane. You're not off the hook yet."

Martha absently activated the spring mechanism on the Swiss army knife, flicking the larger blade on and off, blissfully unaware of the threatening gesture. Flicking the knife was something she often did when deep in thought. One of her many tomboyish habits like whistling or throwing on any old clothes or taking a great interest in car engines. But Kane Phillips wasn't to know that.

He willingly obliged. She may have dressed the wound but that knife had been retrieved a little too fast for his liking. He talked fast.

"Nothing happened with Hayley. I made her _think_ something was gonna happen, I admit. But nothing happened. She was coming on to me and then backing off like it was a game. So I played a game right back. I wanted to teach her a lesson. I pretended I was gonna force myself on her and then I let her go."

"Not funny."

"Yeh, okay." He watched the knife, transfixed. "I see that now."

"And Cass?"

"God knows what was going on in Cassie's head. She seemed determined to…well, _lay_ me. I know it might sound weird but I'm not lying, Mac. She was like someone else. Like someone I never saw before."

Everything he'd said so far was ringing true. Hayley hadn't wanted him charged but wouldn't say why. Cassie _had _been acting totally out of character, even accusing her friend of being jealous of her plans to get with Kane. But Martha had no intention of making things easy for him.

"You've got an answer for everything, don't you? You think I got rocks in my head? You're a sicko, Kane, no two ways about it. How come when I woke up you were peeling off your shirt? How come you were trying to pull down my jeans?"

"What was I supposed to do? You were bleeding. I planned to use the shirt as a bandage. Still looks pretty bad." He observed. "Kind of ironic that it got used on me instead, huh?"

Martha's hand went defensively to her hip. It was only a flesh wound where the unopened knife in her pocket had nicked her skin. The large glistening stain of bright red made it look far worse than it was.

"Jeez, Mac! You really thought I was gonna…?" Realisation was beginning to dawn. "Was that why you ran off when we came out of the cop shop? Why you fell into the river?"

"Okay. Okay, what were you doing in the grounds of Rowan House then? What were you doing prowling round the women's wing? The cops told me," she added, reading his startled expression. "Come on, Philips!" Martha stabbed the knife viciously into the gritty wet sand. "Crawl your way out of that one!"

He looked out at the sea for a long moment. And just when she thought he'd run out of answers, he took her breath away with his reply.

"My Ma's in there."

"She's been in there years," he continued pensively, as it to himself. "Ever since a bungled suicide attempt left her brain damaged. I don't visit anymore. She don't know who I am so what does it matter?" He shrugged as though it didn't but the croak in his voice and the single tear glistening on his cheek seemed to tell a different story. And whether it _was_ only that bitter wind to blame, perhaps we will never know.

* * *

"Take a seat, son."

There were plenty to choose from. A row of ten or more cream leather easy chairs were still set in a semi circle and gathered around a whiteboard, some meeting recently finished, flip chart folded back on to a fresh blank page. But he walked past the more comfortable chairs and for some reason chose a straight back wooden one that seemed to have been placed there as an afterthought and from which he first had to remove a plastic beaker bearing the dregs of cold coffee and a torn and dated magazine sprinkled with biscuit crumbs. And as he laid the cup and magazine on the nearby window-sill and turned one of the cream arm-chairs around ready for his mother he suddenly realised the reason why he'd chosen to sit where he did.

The light might come back into her eyes.

She loved music. And flowers. Before Dad deliberately broke the cheap tinny-sounding radio when he found his wife and two small sons often plugged it in and danced in fun round the kitchen while he was out drinking, she would tell Kane and Scott, glancing at their garbo-strewn, rat-infested garden, that one day they would live somewhere far away from here, just the three of them, that had flowers of every colour and description. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of flowers, she promised breathlessly, as they stomped and swerved and laughed to some random song, and her eyes bright with hope. Till Richie took even hope away from her while he and Scott cowered under the table screaming in terror.

Odd-chair-out was nearest to the large bay window where silver wind chimes rang merrily every time the playful breeze kissed and which gave the very best sweeping view of the hospital's extensive grounds. She would be able to see the curving sweep of the trees that lined the paths and gave way to the benches where patients could sit and admire the carefully cultivated gardens and the sunlight glinting golden sparks on the ornate fountain where, years before she had become a resident of Rowan House, he and Scotty, so angry at a world that had dealt them the devil's hand of a violent alcoholic father and a beaten and cowed, mentally unstable mother, had spray painted obscenities, thrown clumps of soil and uprooted flowers into the water and smashed rocks against the spinning, shiny marble fish that dipped and rose to gush spouts water from ever-open mouths. The cost of the vandalism had run into thousands of dollars but, thanks to the blind spot on the security camera, they were never caught although a substantial reward was put up if anyone could help identify the "perpetrators of this mindless act". But it wasn't mindless, it wasn't! When they finally ran off, panting with exertion, they high-fived in triumph that the fountain had been left as broken and damaged as they were themselves.

An anonymous benefactor, a millionaire businessman, outraged at the "wanton destruction", paid for the fountain to be restored to its former glory, and as it had been long, long ago in less enlightened times when Rowan House Residential Centre was known as Summer Bay Mental Asylum _(for the Incarceration of Lunatics and Imbeciles)_ and, according to the newspaper reports of the day, _"charitable ladies and gentlemen whose generous donations made this institution possible applauded Alderman George Bishop's speech and then all partook of a splendid high tea around the refreshing waters of the fountain, music being provided by gifted cellist The Honourable Miss Elizabeth Butterfield." _(You know, having seen these very newspaper reports for myself, I have to tell you, I am at a loss to know where the patients must have been during this grand soiree. Presumably, the "lunatics and imbeciles" were locked away inside.)

There was little chance of anyone recognising him now as one of the two most destructive kids who would regularly scale the wall of "Loonie Park" to scare one another and create general havoc but his reputation in other ways had gone before him. Everyone knew of the notorious Phillips family of Summer Hill, the father a shiftless, drunken bully who dabbled in drugs and crime, the two sons already with a police record. The staff at the hospital didn't like him very much but there was nothing they could do about it. They tolerated his presence because at fifteen years old he was still a kid in the eyes of the law. Even though he'd grown up as soon as he'd learnt to walk and talk.

"No more than an hour, son," the medic said, as he helped in a waif-like woman, who clung nervously to his arm, stooped, half-deaf and prematurely aged from her husband's beatings. "We don't want to tire your mother."

They left the doors open and found excuses to go in and out, not trusting him alone with her. And though the patients' own private wards was where visitors were usually taken, they kept him well away from her own tiny private room, obviously afraid that, like his father, he might even steal what little she owned.

But ten minutes proved to be more than enough. She didn't remember having any children. She was convinced he was his father and kicked him when he tried to calm her, shouting, screaming and hitting out, weeping in hysterical terror, begging the nurses to make him go away. Each and every visit followed the same heartbreaking pattern as the first. Over the years his visits dwindled and then they stopped altogether.

Until the night of Hayley's party, when some deep loneliness led him to where the trees' hushed shadows trembled in the stilled waters of the moonlit fountain, to where the quiet night and silently-lit windows watched and waited to speak their secrets.

Cassie.

Her large scared brown eyes had spoken volumes. But he'd been on fire and all that mattered was the fire inside him was quenched. When it was over, his kiss had barely registered on her cheek. And her eyes had been more afraid than before.

* * *

"Maybe Cassie," he admitted in a low, choked voice. "Though I didn't mean to…" His voice trailed off and Martha didn't catch some of the words.

"For some reason, she wanted to make out with me. I knew she didn't really _want_ to, but I kept telling myself it was okay because she _said_ she wanted to. That's no excuse though, is it, Mac? It's not something I feel proud of," he added, drawing a shaky breath, "You know, I swore I was _never _gonna be like my Dad..." A sob caught in his throat.

"You don't have to be," she said, taken aback by his tears. "You can change. I'll help you. But not as an item, Kane. Never as an item. I want you to get that straight. I'll go see your Mum with you, I'll be there for you. But I don't want you getting the wrong idea. Not as your girlfriend or anything. As…as…" she floundered, wondering exactly what it was she was offering.

He didn't really know why he'd opened up to her so much. Even about vandalizing the fountain. It wasn't the knife making him talk now. He'd forgotten all about the knife, lost in the memories. Maybe it was the shock of coming so close to death. Maybe it was a need to share with someone after being alone for so long. Maybe it was just…_… _

_reaching out…….........................._

_.because when we finally reach out......_

_…………………………………..........................................................someone reaches right back……… _

"Friends?" he suggested tentatively.

"Friends," she agreed gently, locking her fingers in his.

And, quietly, companionably, together they watched as a new day glowed down through the sleepy clouds and a pool of golden sunlight rippled peacefully on the ocean. Friends.

Who, though they didn't know it yet, would soon need each other more than they ever dreamed…


	47. Chapter 47

_**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **_

_You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies _

***Party of the Year***

**Chapter 47**

**HOMECOMING**

Little girl lost.

The words popped into Julie Smith's head out of nowhere. She'd seen the inside of airports hundreds of times since husband George, due in no small part to Julie's equally sharp brain and business acumen, had made his money in property but Brooke's excitement, though Brooke was no stranger to travelling herself, swept her up in it too.

As usual, the teenager hadn't stopped talking. About chocolate; American Idol; blusher; the-brother-in-the-rock-group-currently-in-rehab; Afghan hounds; dental floss; broken heels; hotels made of ice; the colour turquoise; President Obama…for Brooke, no subject was too big nor too small. She had come into the Smiths' lives through her wealthy parents being among financial backers of the movie Julie's adopted son Nick was starring in. Well, okay, starring was a _slight_ exaggeration.

Nick had been plucked from the relative obscurity of his Yabbie Creek drama school and flown out to Hollywood with his adoptive mother as guardian to play dying tug-of-love kid Harry in a new romantic weepie set in the 1940s. As the fictional character was a couple of years younger and Nick spent most scenes sitting by the fire, pasty-faced, coughing and wrapped in a large blanket, the rapid increase in his height and filling out of his face over the months could fortunately pass unnoticed. Sadly the completed movie, not having any famous names to capture the public's interest, had gone straight to video, leaving everyone involved in its making asking themselves how on earth a "classic" like _A Lonely Heart Never Sleeps _lost money while _Pay Freeze_, a "mediocre thriller" starring Al Pacino and Tom Cruise, raked in the cash.

Nothing perturbed Nick however and his brief brush with fame was no exception. Meeting Brooke was, as far as he was concerned, the highlight of his fledgling movie star career.

It was a shock to Julie when Nick began dating - she had still been thinking of him as a kid with playground crushes - but she had since become very fond of Brooke, only daughter of Larry and Darleen Marino, who were "in advertising" and much younger sister of Jesse Marino, drug-addicted drummer of the rock band JFK. Underneath all the designer clothes, perfume and make-up was an uncertain young girl whose parents showered her with money but who never seemed to notice her. And being an uncertain fourteen-year-old was something Julie herself remembered only too well.

She had grown up in poverty, her mother unable to work due to being a full-time carer for her disabled husband, and she would never forgot their disappointed expressions when she had angrily thrown down the solitary birthday gift of a box of chocolates and screamed "My friends get _heaps_ of _decent_ prezzies for _their_ birthdays!" before storming upstairs to her bedroom and sobbing her heart out because Julie Fleetwood, as she was back then, didn't _have_ any friends, she was called a geek and laughed at and that very afternoon she had overheard Becky Swift and Debbie Barlow, the two _coolest_ girls in her class, giggling about her being "trailer trash" because everybody knew that Mrs Fleetwood shopped in charity stores and "Frumpy Fleetwood" wore second hand clothes.

In an ideal world, Julie would have gone back downstairs and apologized and appreciated the thought behind the gift. But this is not an ideal world and, like many a fourteen-year-old before and since, Julie valued her peers' opinions far above whatever anyone else said or did. It shamed her now, and of course when she grew up she outgrew her childish ingratitude, but now was far too late to go back and change those many similar storm-filled teenage days. And, poor as they were, at least she _did _have their love whereas Brooke, for all her luxurious lifestyle…

"No way! Oh, my God!"

The young girl gave a theatrical little scream and fanned her face, undaunted by the stares of other previously bored, and now thoroughly entertained, passengers at the airport departure lounge.

"Oh, my God!" Brooke repeated, turning to Julie. "Can you believe these guys actually _met_ the Queen?"

With stereotypical British reserve, the _"guys who had actually met the Queen"_, Mum, Dad and two girls of perhaps eleven or twelve, smiled politely and looked rather bemused as people tended to be when they met Brooke for the first time. The two younger girls watched in dumbstruck admiration as she chatted animatedly, her expensively styled, glossy chestnut hair falling like a shower over her shoulders. Their parents' sudden lottery win had transported them into an exciting new world (after three weeks in the States they were now off to Australia) and new-found confidence but Brooke exuded movie star glamour.

"No, I'm afraid you misunderstood. We only _saw_ the Queen," the father of the family said, almost apologetically. "We were among the crowd watching when Her Majesty went past in her carriage for the State opening of Parliament." He added, for Julie's benefit.

But at that moment Brooke espied Nick returning with the bottle of mineral water she had requested and she went to take it from him and to place a cherry-red lipstick smear on his collar in her eagerness to place a kiss on his lips.

The Englishwoman laughed. "Nice to know Royalty still impresses then! Are your daughter and her boyfriend at Uni?"

"Oh, she's not my daughter. She's my son's girlfriend. And they're a bit too young for Uni yet, they're only fourteen," Julie corrected, amused that they obviously thought her American like Brooke. "Nick's being so tall and Brooke's make-up and style probably make them seem older."

"Oh. I see."

Denise Downey's voice turned suddenly cold and she flashed a brief but meaningful glance first at her husband and then at her two pre-teen daughters. If they thought when they hit fourteen they were going to date boys, wear sexy clothes and cake themselves in make-up that made them look at least twenty-one, they had another big think coming. Fortunately, their allocated flight seat numbers were being called or she might well have been tempted to tell Julie that encouraging youngsters to pretend to be older than their emotional age could cope with was just _asking_ for trouble.

"Oh! The English guys have boarded already? I was gonna introduce Nick."

Brooke sounded hurt and on an impulse, aware her ultra confidence was just a front and behind it was a shy, sensitive teen, Julie squeezed her hand. A surprised, pleased look lit up the American girl's pretty face at the gentle motherly touch. Though one had to look closely to find Brooke's natural prettiness.

Her flawless skin was needlessly hidden behind thick foundation, her lip liner created lines that didn't exist before it was applied, the shaped and thinned eyebrows made her look permanently surprised. But her eyes, blinking behind their long fake lashes, gave her away.

"What'd I do, Annie J?" she grinned at Julie and Nick, her perfectly capped teeth gleaming.

The auntie nickname had "just happened" as Brooke herself would have put it. She had come to think of her boyfriend's mother as a kindly auntie, confiding in her rather than her own parents, and as Brooke had a habit of shortening everyone's name J was a natural progression from Julie. And as time went by Julie really did feel more and more responsible for her.

Julie herself had had a boob job while in the States but Julie was old enough to know her own mind. Brooke, without telling a soul, had paid easily out of her very generous allowance for faked documentation that lied about her age and had been all set to be booked into an exclusive clinic to be given breast implants the week after Julie and Nick returned home to Australia. Brooke's parents thought it a great joke when she was rumbled. Julie had been shocked both by Brooke's actions (she later sobbingly confessed that she had planned to get her nose, which didn't need fixing, "fixed" next and then, even though she was skinny as a rake, maybe a tummy tuck) and their blasé attitude.

When she'd suggested that, in addition to the later visit planned for Xmas (work commitments meant the Marinos couldn't get to Australia any earlier) Brooke travelled back with she and Nick to spend the long school vacation in Australia they had bitten her hand off. No mention of how much they'd miss their daughter. They were already strangers to each other, Julie thought sadly.

Even Hayley hadn't yet gone down the road of hating herself so much she thought plastic surgery was the only answer. Julie felt a surge of guilt. She had never bonded with her adopted daughter as she had bonded with Hayley's brothers Nick and Will. Never found any common ground. Hayley was a terrible snob but deep down she must feel every bit as unloved as Brooke. And in her own way how much of a snob had the younger Julie been?

"Nothing. Mom _(Nick had picked up the American pronunciation during his long stint in the States) _was just checking you were still alive because you forgot to speak for two seconds."

Always the joker, Nick neatly sidestepped Brooke's amused slap and was caught instead by Julie's.

"Oww!" He laughed ruefully, rubbing his arm as his mother and his girlfriend and his mother high-fived each other.

Julie affectionately flicked back Brooke's hair.

"She's older than you," she smiled. "But you remind me so much of my daughter Hayley. I've missed her."


	48. Chapter 48

_Anything?"_

_"There's a faint pulse." His face soaked with tears, breathless with his vain attempts to restore his father to consciousness, Kim Hyde answered his friend's question without looking up. "Come on, Dad. You can make it. You've got to!" He took another breath and once more began desperately pummelling his chest._

_"Look, mate, maybe I should go for help...?" Will suggested uncertainly. _

_He knew of a short cut that would take him to the road where he might flag down a car. Will Smith turned in the direction of a huddle of shadowy trees where he, Hayley and Nick, exploring the area when they'd first moved to Summer Bay, had been intrigued to discover the Ancient Path. They had never followed the winding path to its very end but Will trusted himself to find the way._

_His fate was sealed. _**(Chapter 40: Faith)**

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

_You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies _

_*****Party of the Year*****_

**CHAPTER 48**

**WILL**

A sky that saw it was beautiful awoke to break into small, pink sailing clouds. Pencil thin yellow lines of sunlight filtered slowly down through the few gaps it could find in the thick, clustered trees of the Ancient Path while a breeze, more autumn-chilled than summer-blessed, carried in its wake dust and debris to scatter far and wide. Birds and rodents too had over the years added their spoils to nest and den, occasionally shiny coins or silver buttons that would catch the sun's smile to glisten and deepen the Path's air of mystery.

Will cursed as, pushing his way through overgrown branches and sturdy, waist high plants that had flourished in the darkness with frequent showers of rain and narrow pockets of sunlight, his ankle plunged into treacly mud.

Taking a short cut across the Ancient Path to go for help for Barry Hyde had seemed a good idea at the time, but now he bitterly regretted his hasty decision. He had assumed the Path would eventually lead out to the coast road, but he had never been to the very end to find out and it was way too late to turn back. Maybe, even though it was much farther, he should have headed in the opposite direction, to the long abandoned and reputedly haunted River Restaurant, where the steep, winding stone steps that had been cut into the cliffs would have taken him down to the wharf.

But Summer Bay was a quiet little town and folk liked to keep it that way. Even if the recent Baystormer hadn't kept many a would-be reveller home, the dozens of bars and eating places of the hugely popular wharf would be silent and deserted now: an ancient bye-law required all commercial establishments to close on Sundays and, due in no small part to the eccentric charm of the ruling that still enchanted tourists, this was still strictly adhered to. (The original eighteenth century _Keep Holy the Sabbath Day _notice beginning with _that_ famous, and at the time perfectly serious, warning:

_Be Vigilant All Ye for Demons_

_Witnessed in these Strange Lands Tuesday Last _

_Flew out of the Waters a Great Sea Creature _

_The Beast the size of a Horse hath Seven Heads, each Head hath Eight Eyes and Terrifying Fangs …_

_The Sabbath Charter_, as it became known, can still be viewed, housed in a Perspex glass case nowadays, on the very same toll booth on which it was first displayed.) **(*See footnote below)**

Will clutched at the stitch in his side and took time out to catch his breath. Surely he had to be getting close to the coast road by now? For some time the noise of the sea had been growing even louder, roaring like thunder and yet unlike any other sound he had ever heard from the sea before. But maybe the strange slopes, suddenly rising out of the earth almost as if to trap the unwary, and the wizened old trees, weighed down by branches so thick and full it almost seemed they listened, altered perception here. Jeez, though, he only hoped he could make it in time to get help! The Path seemed to be taking him round in circles. He looked all round, trying to figure out where he was. And that was when he saw it!

A pale thin sun - or was it the moon? - seemed to be playing mind games with him, an intermittent glowing light threading eerily through the trees, following him into the gloom as if…as if it were some intelligent being…

"Sheesh, grow up, you wuss!" Will chided himself.

Ghosts and monsters was a theme with his family, he mused, trying to take his mind off the crazy idea he was being followed, steadfastly refusing to look back and ignoring the shivers running down his spine like icy fingers, as he pushed away a low, soaking wet tree branch that must have taken offence at the pushing and shoving, for it sprang right back to slap his ear.

He had often told his younger sister and brother ghost stories, embellishing the tales with torchlight, shadows, surreptitious knocks and twitching curtains in an attempt to frighten them even more. Nick found it funny but Will soon learnt not to tease his kid sister too much. Hayley was terrified of everything…thunderstorms and the monsters she was convinced lived under the house; ghosts and witches and giants; barking dogs and motorbikes and raised voices; spiders and clowns and the dark…

And although as she grew up she outgrew some of her more childish fears, in some ways she became more timid than ever. Hayley had always been a Daddy's girl, running to the father who adored her whenever anything scared her, reassured when he scooped her up into his big strong arms and called her Buddy. Everyone spoilt little Hayley. It was hard not to. But after their parents' deaths in a car crash when she was five years old and their subsequent adoption everything changed. Nick, being the youngest, was the new darling of their adoptive family, Will, being the eldest, was the one being groomed to take over their adoptive father's property empire. Somehow poor Hayley didn't fit in anywhere anymore. Will could understand why she had decided to be _someone_ at Summer Bay High, earning herself the nickname of Miss Piranha in the process (courtesy of fiery Gypsy Nash and her friends, mockingly nicknamed Pollyanna in return by Hayley and her crew).

Nick was the opposite of Hayley, he thought, continuing along the twisting path, aware without needing to look that the glowing light still pursued him. As soon as Nick heard about the Ancient Path, on the very edge of the extensive grounds of the Hartwell estate, he had wanted to explore.

Their adoptive mother Julie loved to read about unsolved mysteries and she had eagerly snapped up a well-thumbed, hard-backed volume of _Ghosts and Legends of Summer Bay _(published long before the paperback reprints that will be a more familiar sight to you in bookshops nowadays) at a charity sale. Nick, like many before him, had been fascinated by the elaborately detailed pen-and-ink illustrations by renowned artist Henry Desmond _(1864-1932)_ and which were the original reason for the book's quickly soaring popularity: _The Great Sea Creature Takes to the Skies; The White Lady's Solitary Walk; Villagers Gaze in Fear at the Strange Phenomenon of Four Moons; Did Ancient Path Lead Benjamin Quigley and his Faithful Dog through Time Portal?_ (Desmond had added an assortment of peculiar creatures apparently following man and dog) _A Ghostly Ship and Ghostly Crew Doomed to Sail the Ocean for All Eternity; Water Sprites Seeking Food _(here, he had sketched several luminous elves with hollow black eyes crawling on to the river bank, some swallowing insects and even lizards whole)…Desmond's vivid imagination knew no bounds.

Yep , they all, except Hayley, loved a good ghost story. Even their adoptive father George, whilst insisting everything had to have a rational explanation (and he would happily provide one even when there weren't _any_) would often relate tales he had been told as a boy by his own father, who had lived some years in Singapore and worked in a notoriously "haunted" Jakartan hospital.

Reality breached for a moment as Will paused again to catch his breath, beads of sweat on his forehead. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere. And the winding path, even at its beginning, had been more outgrown than he remembered, but that was hardly surprising…

*****

He'd been thirteen the last time he'd taken the Ancient Path, not long after they'd moved here, when Nick insisted there were all kinds of strange, exotic creatures hidden in the long grass. Exactly what, he didn't specify, but he had recently been flicking through the pictures of _Ghosts and Legends of Summer Bay _and was also trying (in vain) to persuade their parents to let him keep some exotic pet, a crocodile or python wouldn't need much looking after, he suggested hopefully, this being Nick's optimistic solution to his mother's allergy to animal fur.

"Look, mate, you're hardly gonna find many mini tigers lurking in the undergrowth," Will sighed, feeling, as always, he had to be the responsible older brother and not let Nick, who was only eight, roam too far on his own.

Nick's face lit up. "Mini tigers? Here? D'ya reckon there _might_ be?"

Will shook his head pityingly and checked back on Hayley, who had insisted on joining them in exploring the mysterious Ancient Path, bearer away of Benjamin Quigley and his Faithful Dog - if, indeed, they had ever existed to be borne away in the first place. She hated getting muddy and she hadn't really wanted to go at all, but ever since their parents' deaths, six years ago now, she never liked being separated from her brothers.

Hayley had turned into a terrible snob and her spoilt little rich girl antics often drove easygoing Will to the brink but as he looked back now protective big brother mode kicked in.

The Smiths were still fairly new to the picturesque little town of Summer Bay. Nick, who had wanted to go on stage ever since he was four and saw his first show, at his own request boarded weekdays at the prestigious Yabbie Creek Drama School while Will and Hayley had chosen to attend Summer Bay High, where, to Will's amusement, his little sister, persuading him not to breathe a word to anyone that they were adopted and not born into their vast wealth (by a lucky coincidence they already shared the same surname as their new Mum and Dad) had been busy building up a fan base of shallow hangers-on impressed by money and looks. Or The Beautiful People, as they had begun to refer to themselves.

Will had stayed well out of what he regarded as kids' stuff but just recently he had got well and truly caught up in the middle. Gypsy Nash, a gorgeous chick with gold-flecked green eyes, a beautiful smile, fiery red hair and the temper to match, had joined Summer Bay High some weeks back and he was totally smitten. But Hayley and Gypsy had become sworn enemies and Will suddenly found himself treading a fine line between loyalty to his kid sister and trying to impress Gypsy, the only result being he seemed to be the fall guy whenever the sparks flew. As they did just about every day.

But right now neither her entourage nor her adversaries would have recognised Queen Bee Hayley Smith as she tried to hurry through the mud, so desperate not to be left behind, small white hands bloodied and scratched as they curved around trees, silky blonde hair dirty and matted, sad blue eyes warily watching out for spiders, snakes and God only knew what other terrors.

"C'mon, Buddy, it's okay," Will said gently, walking back to take his little sister by the arm and help her climb over tangled tree roots that had busied themselves over a great many years with dark, murderous thoughts, creeping silently over the path determined to strangle one other.

"Guys, guys!" Nick suddenly yelled. "There's some kind of weird insect down the hill! I'm gonna catch it and start my own exotic insect zoo!"

Perhaps the crumpled, multi-coloured candy bar wrapper, carried from afar by an errant wind and glinting beetle-like in the sunlight as it fluttered idly by, was startled to find itself re-invented as a weird insect and destined for an exotic insect zoo, for it abruptly quickened its pace.

Undaunted, Nick, snapped open the matchbox pulled from his pocket, raised the fishing net he had brought _"in case of water sprites" _and jumped down the "hill" - one of two or three they had passed, peculiar, sand-coloured shallow pits in the earth where no flowers, plants or trees grew or ever seemed to have grown, created perhaps by freak weather conditions over thousands of years or perhaps by some unearthly hand (for the wide area surrounding the Ancient Path and Whitelady Woods abounds in myth) forgetting the wise old adage that two hands are better than none at all. He landed heavily and, unable to save himself, managed to twist both ankles in the process.

Nick was sitting in a heap, his face screwed up in agony, when Will finally caught up although, typical Nick, he tried to make a joke of it.

"Just think, bro, when I'm a famous movie star you and Hales can tell them all about my dangerous hunt for the exotic insect!" He announced, albeit with difficulty, gritting his teeth against the pain, mocking himself by flicking back his hair in movie star pose, adjusting imaginary sunnies and looking for all the world as though he sat there ready to begin a leisurely picnic.

"More like what an idiot you are!" Will sighed, grinning in spite of himself. Luckily they hadn't strayed too far from the mouth of the Path, where they had left their bikes.

"I'm gonna have to carry you on my back till we get to the bikes and I can wheel you." He decided, having jumped down beside Nick, assessed the injury and discovered, unsurprisingly, his mobile phone didn't pick up any signal here. He turned to his kid sister, who was watching anxiously from a safe distance, concerned about Nick but too worried about the thick mud to continue. "Hales, when we get to the bikes, you reckon you can ride yours home fast and let the olds know what's happened?"

Eleven-year-old Hayley had always been a competent cyclist and he had no qualms about asking her to cycle home alone along the stony roads and bumps of the massive Hartwell Estate. Even at the tender age of seven she had been a little star at her beginner level cycling lessons, often being called upon to help the less confident kids, and later flying through her cycling proficiency test.

"No worries!" She gave a smile that transformed her into the Hayley he remembered, the pre-Summer Bay Hayley, who, although she was becoming fixated even back then with money and looks, wasn't quite the total bitch Summer Bay High knew her to be.

*****

Bikes just didn't figure in Hayley's itinerary these days, Will reflected. The only transport that mattered to her was anything that enhanced her image such as limos or open top sports cars. What the hell happened to her in those years since their parents died? Sure, he could see _how_ it'd happened, but maybe as her older brother he should have…

"What the *****!" Will just had time to catch hold of an old oak tree as he suddenly stumbled.

The Ancient Path had come to abrupt halt and somehow he knew without knowing how he knew that it had taken a circular route and met with Whitelady Woods. But barely had the thought formed when his tenuous hold on the tree, its bark still soaked and slippery from the recent Baystormer, slipped. Unable to stop himself, he slithered into another pit, this one much, much deeper and more narrow than any before...

*****

-----Will groaned in pain. He seemed to have landed on some kind of ledge but his back, dragged along the rough ground as he fell, had taken the brunt of the damage. High above he could just make out the brightening sky and below he thought he could hear the sound of water but the inky blackness made it impossible to see. Maybe this had been the fate of _Ghosts and Legend's _Benjamin Quigley and Angus, the faithful pet. Maybe, deep in the bowels of the earth and hidden by the darkness, lay the rotting skeletons of a man and dog. Jeez, _he _could _die_ here!

Almost gleefully, the eerie glowing light, tinged with green now and emitting a steady, high-pitched whistle, picked up speed…

***Footnote: **_**To view The Sabbath Charter, leave the beach near the formation of rocks known poignantly as The Widow's Bairns, follow the old path down to Moira's Creek, then walk by the side of the creek until you reach the stone milestone marking the distance from the village. The toll booth is situated at the bottom of the hill.**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Um…re the footnote, I got a _bit_ carried away again! ;))) Hope you enjoyed the update. I'm going back to another writing project for a while but I'll get back to SBH again asap. :)


	49. Chapter 49

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

_You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies _

***Party of the Year***

_Lonely night. Black, dark, calm, terrifying night...Hayley scratched her carefully polished and manicured fingernails into the teddy bear's face and felt a strange satisfaction as she plucked out its eyes... __**(Chapter 12)**_

**CHAPTER 49**

**WIND BENEATH MY WINGS **

_So I was the one with all the glory_

_While you were the one with all the strength _

_**Wind Beneath my Wings (Bette Midler)**_

"Hales. I know what you were going to do."

Cassie spoke gently. She hadn't spoken in a while. Neither of them had. Not since the sudden power cut had plunged them both into darkness and Hayley had finally stopped screaming, reassured by the trickle of light when Cassie, sensing her terror of the dark, drew open the curtains.

"Freak!" Hayley snapped. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

They sat at opposite ends of the bed like two small children who'd been grounded unexpectedly and not quite knowing how to deal with the fallout. Cassie's hands, fingers locked together, rested neatly on her lap and she clenched them even tighter, wondering if she was doing the right thing by introducing the topic. She had flung open the thick curtains but the moonlight only served to enhance the shadows and the sneer on Hayley's face. Yet somehow even though Hayley was being her usual abrasive self Cassie knew she wasn't wrong. She had stopped screaming when Cassie opened the curtains. She had simply sunk back down on to the bed as though ashamed of her childlike fear of the dark and said nothing when Cassie sat beside her.

"I sat in the bathroom for ages looking at that bottle of pills," Cassie said carefully.

"You could have done us all a favour." Hayley spat. "What stopped you?" She meant the question to be sarcastic but to her consternation the pause before it and the tremor that crept into her voice gave her away.

Cassie looked down at her hands. She'd never told anyone about it. She'd thought one day she might tell Martha, but even in her wildest dreams she never imagined her confidant being Hayley. Anyway, killing yourself wasn't something you just "talked about", was it? It was something you locked away deep in your mind and in your heart, a secret all of your own to keep, hidden behind the façade of being glad to be alive because the world is supposed to be so wonderful and you're never meant to get so down. But that's okay for those with someone. That's okay for those who are loved. Where will the lonely go?

She bit her lip. "Gran would have been heartbroken and..."

"You're loopy like I always said." Hayley interrupted the answer, suddenly realising she'd revealed far too much with her question and trying to bluff her way out of the _faux pas_ as she flung down the TV remote she'd been toying with and stormed over to the window. "I was hell as like thinking of topping myself, you stupid b***h. Only freaks like you go in for all that drama queen stuff."

"You wouldn't have destroyed Freddie Teddy if you weren't thinking of destroying yourself too," Cassie said quietly. "He's part of you. Always has been."

"Who the hell told you about that?" Hayley turned furiously round, glaring at her companion with the contemptuous glare she'd perfected and expecting Cassie to flinch as usual.

But Cassie wasn't to be bowed anymore and met her gaze, unperturbed. "I asked Will who gave you the teddy bear I saw in your room," she answered calmly. "He told me you'd had Freddie Teddy since you were a bub."

"He had no right…" Hayley began, then stopped herself. What was wrong with her? No matter what she said, no matter what she denied, she was still telling Crazy Cassie way too much. It was as though Cassie was drawing the information out of her. Or maybe, the thought flew to her mind, it was because there was no one else to tell…

"Hayley," Cassie said in the same quiet, steady voice. "Stop bagging me out. Because if you don't, I'm not going to stay."

Hayley shuffled uncomfortably. The last thing she wanted, she realized, swallowing the lump that caught in her throat, was for Cassie to leave. Her so-called friends, The Beautiful People, too busy partying and enjoying themselves at Hayley's expense, hadn't wanted to know earlier when she'd been crook. Mac wasn't around. Adam Kerr, who normally hung on to her every word, had disappeared. Will was too wrapped up in Gypsy Nash for her to confide in these days. Cassie was the only who'd stayed. Through thick and thin. That was what a _true _friend did, wasn't it?

"My uncle was abusing me," Cassie whispered through the silence that had fallen between them and Hayley glanced up, though, recollecting the cruel jibe she'd made about Cassie being a "filthy slag" after Kane Phillips had taken advantage of her, she couldn't meet her eyes and instead stared straight ahead at their pale moonlit images reflected in the antique mirror.

"It started when I was ten or eleven. I just didn't know how to make it stop." Cassie hunched her shoulders and folded her arms high across her chest, the nightmares playing out again in her memory. "How could I tell Gran? He was her only son and it would've broken her heart. I kind of went in on myself. The other kids at school said I was weird and started bullying me for it and I…I just wanted to…to end it all. But I couldn't. Killing myself would have broken her heart too. I didn't know what to do."

"Why didn't you tell a…tell a friend?" Hayley crumpled a tissue that she'd snatched out of a nearby box, uncertain of herself, unused to giving Crazy Cassie advice. To giving _anyone_ advice.

Cassie shrugged. "I didn't have any," she said simply. "Not till I came to Summer Bay High and met Mac. But never mind me." She smiled fleetingly for a childhood stolen, only her dark eyes revealing how deeply the terrible betrayal had scarred her. "Uncle Ben's dead now. I don't have to worry about him anymore. What about you, Hales? Is it a guy? I mean, it must be something serious when you've got everything, a mum and dad who love you, all this fantastic wealth and…"

"No, I DON'T!" Hayley protested, close to tears. "I'm sick of pretending and I'm sick to death of the hangers-on. They've never cared about me, all they've ever cared about is all this Fantastic Wealth that I DON'T have because me, Will and Nick were _adopted_ and my new mum and dad don't even _like_ me so they'll probably turf me out penniless soon as I reach eighteen. So now you know," she added sulkily, stunned by her own outburst. Where had that come from? It was as though all the pent-up anger, fear and loneliness had been stored inside her heart for years awaiting its moment to be unleashed. "And now you know I _don't_ have millions no doubt you don't want to know me anymore so you might as well rack off!"

"Oh!" Cassie's jaw dropped in shock.

A thousand questions sprang to her lips and she had already drawn breath to ask the first when she saw Hayley's hands were shaking. So afraid of rejection, Cassie thought, her big heart melting and instantly forgetting every single put-down, every single cruelty Hayley had ever inflicted on her. "But we're _friends,_ Hales." She stated with the simple childlike honesty that many mocked but that true friends like Martha loved most about her. "Why should it matter if we're rich or poor or live in a mansion or a hovel or if we're green or purple or…"

Only Cassie could have come up with such a peculiar simile. Hayley choked back the near tears and smiled despite herself, overwhelmingly relieved that her friend _hadn't _walked out on her.

_"Green or purple?"_

Cassie shrugged. "You know what I mean."

"Yeh. I guess I do." Hayley's voice sounded strange even to her own ears. There was a genuineness in it that she hadn't heard in a long, long time. "Cass…don't tell anyone what I told you about me not being born into all this though, will you? And I'll give you…"

"We're friends," Cassie cut in sharply. "We don't need to bribe each other to keep confidences."

Hayley guiltily dropped her gaze. Cassie was right. Cassie was right about heaps. How had the balance of power shifted? And yet it wasn't about power anymore. It was as though they both stood on the same level. Like they listened to, watched out for each other. Like they could share their deepest secrets and dreams without the emotional complications of sex and romance that came with boyfriends. There was a comforting warmth about just knowing Cassie was there for her. Hayley hadn't known a feeling like it since…

*****

Hayley and Emily were best friends. They'd gone to the same kindy and now they went to the same Big School. Their teacher Mr Robson called them The Giggle Twins because they giggled about everything, even being called The Giggle Twins. Sophie, Eve and Miranda were their friends too, but if they had to pair up or hold hands crossing the road on a school trip it was always Emily and Hayley.

They did everything together. They both loved strawberry cheesecake with ice cream and dunking chocolate fingers in milk. They both got car sick going uphill and they both screamed hysterically if they saw a spider spinning a web. They invented secret names for things, like Jammy-Joe was a sugar doughnut filled with jam and mirrow meant mirror, giggling when they used words only they understood. Their favourite game was pretending they were sisters, especially princess sisters, and they had all kinds of adventures as Princesses Hayla and Emila.

Emily said brothers were gross. She knew that without Hayley having to tell her because she had brothers as well, three of them! Dean hadn't long been born so didn't really count yet, but Harry was sooo boring with his footie and boys' games and Josh was always breaking wind and thinking it was funny. Hayley's older brother Will thought he knew _everything_ and her baby brother Nick was always being sick or soiling his nappy or crying for his bottle just when they were about to go to the park or to the shop for lollies. Brothers could be okay sometimes, they agreed, but you couldn't let them be getting ideas or they took over. Sometimes they visited each other's houses and Emily's brother Harry liked Hayley and Hayley's brother Will liked Emily, but the girls told them they were being stupid. But they giggled about their "boyfriends" when they were alone and when they grew up Hayley was going to marry Harry and Emily was going to marry Will.

Things had been so simple back then. Nobody could ever dream their parents would be wiped out in moments in a car crash, leaving Hayley, Will and Nick orphans, tearing them abruptly away from their old lives and friends. And the friends, somehow for Hayley they never happened again after Emily, Sophie, Eve and Miranda.

*****

"Sorry," Cassie said. "I didn't meant to jump down your throat like that."

"It's okay." Hayley shook herself out of her reverie.

"But, honest, Hales, I really don't care about you being rich or poor," Cassie said earnestly. "No matter what, we'll still be friends. Can you smell smoke?" She added suddenly, puzzled. "The gardeners wouldn't be burning leaves somewhere on the Hartwell Estate, would they? Not so early in the morning?"

Hayley wrinkled her nose, baffled. "I can smell burning, but we paid all the staff to take time off so's we could throw the party. Maybe someone's got a barbie going."

But a noise like rain pattering heavily against the pane made them both turn as one towards the bedroom window where to their horror a blur of orange flame had leapt to hungrily engulf every inch. …


	50. Chapter 50

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Sorry for the long delay between updates, I've been busy working on other writing projects and getting back into original fiction.

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat**

_You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies_

_***Party of the Year*** _

**Chapter 50**

**OMENS **

"Megsy? You okay? Because… because I'm not."

Gypsy smiled a sad little fleeting smile that haunted her beautiful green eyes like the shadow of dreams long past. She had stopped to wait for Megan as they explored the long disused River Restaurant that stank of decay and echoed with the lonely lapping of the river, its windows filthy and broken, its walls stained with mould, and lost forever the glitz and glamour that were the hallmark of its grand yesterdays.

She glanced briefly at their companions. Jack, Noah and Kit were still fooling around, pretending to scare one other in the moonlight-streaked darkness. Kit was screaming in mock fear as Noah trailed a cobweb along her neck, while a rat the size of a small kitten, that had sat unseen on an upturned table, twitching its whiskers at the interesting new scents pervading the night air, scurried away to slither under the same gap through which it had entered, its soft furry body brushing against Jack's ankle as it fled, making him first cry out and then laugh at his fear.

Only a few minutes ago Gypsy too had been laughing.

And then a strange, low whistling noise had made her turn. Seeing Megan staring out through the dirt-encrusted, broken windows, she followed her gaze, and she too watched in silence as a glowing, green-tinged light hovered over Whitelady Woods before curving in on itself and disappearing before their very eyes.

"You saw it?" Megan whispered back, a rare note of surprise creeping into her voice. She had inherited the gift of second sight from her grandmother and she was used to seeing and hearing strange sights and sounds. But, just as her grandmother had said, very, very few other people would ever share the same experience. And then only if…

Gypsy nodded, speaking in the same hushed tones. "And heard it. None of the others did though. What does it mean?"

She couldn't explain even to herself why she hadn't screamed or yelled out a warning although her heart had been - still was - beating nineteen to the dozen. But something deep inside her told her that only she and Megan had seen something. And it wasn't Jack she wanted to comfort her, it was…

The boy who's heart she'd broken over and over. The boy she'd mocked, hated, treated so bad. Till in the end, Will walked away. Even though she loved him.

"I don't know," Megan said, shaking her head helplessly. "I only wish I did. But the very fact you saw it must mean there's something you have to do, something you have to know…"

Megan tried in vain to make sense of the vague images that ran too quickly through her mind like a glimpse of some up and coming movie the producers were keen to entice an audience to watch without giving away anything of the story. Whitelady Woods. The moonlit river. The Ancient Path. "I know it was the White Lady, I _know_ it was Lady Eleanor, but…" Gypsy was shaking like a leaf caught in a breeze and Megan squeezed her hand. "Oh, Gyps! It doesn't always mean death to the person who sees her, it doesn't, it doesn't, despite what the legend claims."

"If anyone had told me a few days ago that I'd be taking notice of signs and symbols, I'd have said they were crazy." Gypsy spoke as though she'd lately been running, her words punctuated by quick, small breaths, her face, already shiny from the greasepaint she'd applied, eerily white in the moonlight filtering in through the jagged, broken glass. "But I'm the crazy one," she added, shivering. I've let the only guy I ever loved go forever."

"Maybe not forever," Megan said. "We…"

And then suddenly there was much more than moonlight. There was a glow as strong as though the sun had burst out of the sky and fallen to the earth, as, roaring and sparking, the fire rolled in a carpet of furious red and orange flames towards Whitelady Woods...

*********

They had been so deep in conversation it was only now they became aware of the confusion downstairs. Of people running, shouting, screaming.

Cassie sprang to her feet at the same time as there came a tremendous pounding on the door.

"Open it, open it!" Hayley yelled, beside herself with fear. "It'll be someone to rescue us!"

But Cassie didn't need to unlock the door. Before she reached it, the handle shattered and the door burst open with a final thud. A figure clad in motorbike gear, his face masked by a scarf, only his eyes visible, shoved Cassie aside and, caught by surprise, she toppled to the floor, banging her head on the corner of the dressing table, blood spurting from her temple.

Hayley froze in terror as he came towards her, his bloodshot eyes expressionless, reeking of alcohol and obviously high. She screamed as he lunged at her, but he pressed his hand hard against her mouth, stifling her screams, forcing her backwards.

"Payback time, Princess Pricktease," he sneered, throwing her roughly on to the bed, and she screamed again only for her head to be jerked backwards, her neck cricking painfully, as he clamped his hand over her mouth once more. She tried in vain to fight him off, pushing, biting, scratching, but he was much, much stronger, his free hand tearing at her clothes…


	51. Chapter 51

You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies

_***Party of the Year*** _

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

**Chapter 51**

**FOLLOWERS**

Noah and Jack tore through the night towards the hungry flames, gut instinct kicking in. There could be people trapped in there. Terrified people frantically trying to find a way out, partygoers spilling out into the night, coughing and choking, desperately needing the medical attention both were trained in.

"NOAH, NOAH!"

Kit's screams of terror as she raced after her boyfriend were quickly swallowed by a roaring torrent of fire, her voice trailing away on the fierce wind of flames. Her eyes stung and she felt sick and dizzy. The smoke was growing blacker and thicker by the minute, curling around her body like a shroud.

And then she felt safe arms suddenly catch her as she staggered helplessly in the darkness.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Kit was relieved to hear Gypsy's voice close by. "Look, there's Megan ahead, waving, yelling at us to follow her. I mean, if _she_ can't find the way, being psychic…!"

Eyes burning, Kit thankfully clutched her friend's arm. "I can't hear or see _anyone_, Gyps! I'll need to hold on to you."

"Gypsy! Kit!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breathlessly, trying in vain to battle against the invisible force that was pulling her further and further away from her companions, Megan called their names once more but still they didn't hear as they ran into the firelit night.

And then they were gone.

She was alone now. All alone. Nothing but silence left. The smoke swirled and danced and became a river. The red glow of fire faded, yet strangely its heat remained…

Benevolent now, burning down from a cloudless azure sky. It was the beautiful daylight of early morning. Pinpricks of sunlight sparkled diamond-like on the river yet shadows remained. On the opposite bank, under the cold shade of the weeping willow, curled dead leaves floated slowly downstream.

She looked down into the turquoise water and saw the wavering reflection of a bride carrying a colourful bridal bouquet. She felt her arms rise of their own accord and furiously hurl the bouquet far into the river. Watched with quiet satisfaction as, quickly separated and broken, they too trailed along the gently-rippling river. Down by her feet a large grey spider skirted the uneven river bank, its long legs scurrying hurriedly over grass and stones, while a small breeze gently lifted the branches of the trees of Hartwell Woods, its sweet kisses left unsung on the summer air.

"Eleanor…?" Megan said quietly, afraid.

"Hear me," a voice whispered through the wind. Megan swallowed and nodded.

"I will," she promised.

And, heart beating fast, inwardly asking her grandmother for guidance and protection, she allowed Lady Eleanor's memories to consume her.

Something compelled Megan to pull back the veil. It was strange to see through another's eyes. To see herself as a plumper, smaller girl with blonde ringlets tumbling over her shoulders, with a pure white wedding veil pulled back over her face, stranger still to finger the gold locket and feel the heavy despair weighing down her heart.

"I loved him." Eleanor whispered in the rush of the river. "I loved him!"

Hot tears pricked Megan's eyelids and a lump rose to her throat. She felt as though she'd been weeping forever. She closed her eyes and listened.

Lady Eleanor Hartwell had fallen in love with Captain Harry Silcock the very moment they met. It had been at the ball held at Hartwell Mansion to celebrate both her eighteenth birthday and inheritance of the title. Her parents had died a year ago, within months of each other, Lord Thomas Hartwell contracting smallpox and his wife Lady Margaret, who'd nursed him devotedly throughout, succumbing herself to the disease soon afterwards. Eleanor, their only child, was mercifully spared.

It was however another seven years before she would come of age, at twenty-five, to inherit the Hartwell estate and until then her godmother, whom she had always known as Aunt Beatrice, had been appointed her legal guardian. Aunt Beatrice, in her late forties and never married, was a cold woman, not deliberately cruel, but she had been bought up in a strict religious household and was not given to emotion, lacking the exuberance and _"romantic notions"_ of Lady Margaret's daughter. Aunt Beatrice was horrified that the would-be heiress had been allowed to _"run wild and free as any gypsy"._

_"A lady must at all times conduct herself as a lady" _she was fond of quoting, and Eleanor would be reprimanded for running or made to practice walking for an hour or more with heavy books balanced on her head for slouching in her seat or locked in her room to reflect on _"the error of her ways and pray to God for forgiveness" _if she dared kick off her shoes and hitch up her dress to paddle barefoot in the silver stream.

Beatrice was anxious that Eleanor should marry well and to this end threw several balls and dinner parties to which eligible men were often invited. Harry Silcock had been one such eligible bachelor introduced to Eleanor.

Several years older than she, he had sailed the world as a sea captain but now looked to find himself a wife and settle down. Young and naive, she was smitten, quickly flattered by the handsome older man's attention. His skin was nut brown from the sun, his face weatherbeaten, his deep, treacly voice like music to her soul, his brown eyes held the magic and mystery of faraway places. Her godmother considered him an excellent catch and was delighted when they were engaged to be married soon after their first meeting. Eleanor's friends however were less certain.

There were rumours, they said, that he'd made his money captaining the African slave ships. They said he was not a man to be trusted. They said they saw in his eyes, in his bearing, that he didn't truly love her; that he sought only to increase his wealth and to control her. Eleanor would have none of it, believing them jealous. Encouraged by Harry, who dismissed them as _"giddy young girls out to do you harm" _by the time of the wedding, she had dropped every single one of the friends, two or three of whom had been playmates since early childhood and cared for her like a sister. Her life revolved only around her fiancé and godmother. But Eleanor cared little. She needed no one else.

But no love is perfect and neither was the love of Eleanor and Harry.

They rowed fiercely one sultry summer's night when the moon was round and full and roses scented the air. He accused her of making eyes at other men. He said she flirted shamelessly and refused to listen to her pleas she was innocent of such a charge.

That fateful night she broke away from the dancing and took herself and her tears away to the Love Seat.

Her mother had had the small wooden bench, just big enough for two and beautifully carved with exquisite engravings of hearts, doves and flowers, built into the wall when Hartwell Mansion was first created. A stone gazebo jutting out above offered shelter from rain, a protective walled corner gave tender warmth should the air breathe cold. The nearby trees of Hartwell Woods, huddled together in shadows to tell each other their secrets, bowing their heads to the mystical Ancient Path, in winter blocked icy winds and in summer cooled sweltering air; by day the river shimmered and shone and flowers bloomed in a glorious riot of colour; by night, troubled hearts would be soothed by the hushed lapping of the river and joyous chirping of crickets.

She had sat here before with Harry, and as a child too had liked to slip away from her nurse to sit dreaming dreams that she would find the true love her parents had known. Tears had begun to pricked her eyelids once more when a movement nearby made her start, for she had not heard anyone approach.

"Such a close night, is it not?"

Harry's half-brother Arnold stood before her. He loosened the cravat tied rakishly around his neck and glanced down at her cleavage as he spoke.

Eleanor flushed. It was the first time she'd worn the beautiful green silk dress, daringly low cut in keeping with the Parisian fashion that was all the rage. She had carefully draped a pretty lace shawl around her shoulders to avoid her godmother's disapproval but the ballroom had been exceptionally warm, and, swept up by the gaiety of the evening, she had soon slipped it from her arms. She wished now she hadn't left the shawl indoors. Arnold unsettled her. Until very recently he had lived in Europe but now he was home social niceties decreed it only polite to invite him to the ball. He was much younger than Harry, being nearer Eleanor's own age, and she found him oddly attractive, for he shared many of her fiancé's handsome features and mannerisms.

"It is." She agreed uneasily, dabbing her eyes and glad of the handkerchief that hid her confusion.

To her consternation, he sat down beside her. The bench was barely big enough for two, being meant as it was for sweethearts, and, shocked at his body being so close against her own, she sprang to her feet.

He merely laughed easily, as though the indiscretion were of no matter, and stood too. Perhaps, she thought, it was the way of the Europeans and he had lived most of his life there.

"My brother is a headstrong fool," he smiled, tilting her chin and gazing into her eyes, eyes so like Harry's own that her heart fluttered with a strange forbidden excitement. "I could relate to you such amusing tales that Mother told me of when he was but a boy! That is, if you care to listen. Would you do me the honour of walking with me, Miss Eleanor? We could stroll by the river where it is so much cooler."

Intrigued, thinking to later tease Harry with her new-found knowledge when they reconciled, for reconcile she was sure they would, Eleanor smiled back and took his gallantly proffered arm. "I will, sir."

Megan suddenly crumpled helplessly to the ground, screaming in abject pain and terror, as a terrible darkness covered the lonely sky, the wind rose and wailed, and the river lashed in wild, tempest-tossed fury, Eleanor's words carrying through the whispering trees.

_"I was so stupid, so trusting….down by the river…he raped me…"_


	52. Chapter 52

You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies

_***Party of the Year*** _

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

_No noise other than Gypsy's sobs and the raging storm pervaded the quiet of the common room, its wall adorned with a blown-up photograph of Gypsy naked and scrawled above in large bold letters the single word SLUT. **(Chapter 24: Night Talk)**_

**Chapter 52**

**VENGEANCE**

Centuries passed and nothing but tears to mark their passing.

But at last all time was done. The storm abated. Shadows stilled. A gentle sunlight stole through the curtain of softly falling rain to lend golden hues to the quiet day. Through the silvery raindrops rippling on the sunlit stream, Eleanor spoke with Megan again, her voice devoid of all emotion, all that happened so long ago now.

_Harry never truly loved me, just as my friends had warned. Arnold claimed I had gone with him willingly and given my consent and my fiancé accepted his brother's story above my own. He said I was soiled and he could not marry me now. That no man would or should. My godmother, artless and unworldly, was easy prey for Harry's charm and sadly believed the lies. A woman then had no rights and as my betrothed even though he'd rejected me Harry's word was law. He persuaded Aunt Beatrice my mind must be weak to do what I had done and, on his suggestion, I was to be sent away to a convent for a year. I saw at once his intentions were to have me declared insane and thus seize the fortune for himself, but my godmother refused to listen, thinking me delusional. I had alienated all my friends and had no one to turn to. I couldn't bear the thought of being locked away forever…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was only when Gypsy and Kit reached the annex that they realised how deceptive the thick black smoke had been. The flames were contained to a small area at the front of Hartwell Mansion and to judge by the shouts, cheers and gushing water things were fast getting under control. Gypsy laughed in relief, about to say something to Kit - Megan had been striding too far ahead of them - when a blinding flash of light momentarily dazzled her vision and for a crazy second she thought she saw…

But it had to be her imagination, right? That weird experience in the abandoned River Restaurant, when she and Megan had heard the low whistling and watched the eerie, green-tinged light streak through the sky, well, that had to be some freak weather condition and she'd just been swept up in Megan's talk of omens. She didn't _truly _believe in ghosts. She'd _imagined_ White Lady standing in an upper window of Hartwell Mansion in bridal gown and veil as though in mocking parody of herself…hadn't she…?

She conveniently swept aside the niggling little doubt that maybe it _hadn't_ been Megan they followed. Anyway, the image was gone now, quickly as it came. It had probably been no more than a fleeting glimpse of her own reflection shimmering through the orange glow of firelight. Gypsy glanced briefly down at the costume she'd taken from the Summer Bay High props department, the wedding dress torn, grey and mud-splattered now although it had been pristine white and perfect when she'd taken it out of the trunk. She bit her lip.

Given her history, maybe the soiled look suited her.

She'd even scored with a boy, whose name she couldn't even remember now, right here on the Love Seat last summer. Just some random holidaymaker she'd been chatting to on the beach when it began to pelt with rain and they'd needed to find shelter fast. Hartwell Mansion was the nearest place and she knew for a fact Hayley had invited a crowd of friends over that day so she'd pass unnoticed as she had before. Their kisses led to more, their desire for each other surpassing all else, the thrill heightened by the chance of getting caught and the gymnastics they had to perform in the limited narrow space. He told her, as he pulled on his pants, the last of the dying raindrops running down his bare chest, that she could make her fortune in the city and, busy trying to untwist the strap of her bikini top as she sat, she asked him what he meant.

"Selling it. I don't mean just as any pro though. I could see you as a high class call girl. Can't believe I got it for free!" He smiled as he retrieved his shirt and was baffled and angry when she flew at him, digging long fingernails into his face, drawing blood.

She didn't remember his name, but she remembered all the names he'd called her. She didn't remember his name, but she remembered afterwards sitting all alone on the beach and crying till her eyes stung and her throat was like sandpaper. And even then crying some more.

What Hayley had done, pinning up a poster-sized photo of Gypsy naked, with the lipstick-painted word "slut" scrawled in giant letters above, in Summer Bay High's common room for the whole school to gawk at had been cruel beyond belief. Everybody knew Gypsy's background. Everybody knew that as a tiny baby she'd been bound hand and foot and left to die in the searing heat at the top of jagged cliffs. It was only by pure fluke that three small boys wagging school had found her there dumped like a piece of trash.**

And a small voice inside her told her trash was all she was and all she would ever be.

"Gyps, we gonna stand here admiring the view forever? Maybe we should go round the front, see how the guys are doing. I swear I heard Noah shouting orders out there!"

Kit's question, the joy in her voice that her fiance was okay evident, cut into her thoughts.

"Wait. You wanna know where that photo of me naked came from?" There was a feigned gaiety in Gypsy's voice though, given the way Kit swung round so quickly at the light touch on her arm, she wondered if her friend could see right through her and know how broken she was inside. "That sleazeball Adam Kerr whipped the sheet off me and snapped it on his mobile after we made out."

"You made out with Hayley's lackey _Adam Kerr?" _Kit could barely conceal her astonishment.

"Uh-huh. Two days ago. In one of the little guest rooms up there." Gypsy indicated, grinning. "Just to get up Miss Piranha's nose. And I figured if he ever showed that pic to Hayley it'd get up her prissy nose even more so he got to keep the pic."

Kit stared at her, still stunned. "I never even knew there _were_ any guest rooms. How the hell did you get in? Somehow I can't see Hayley opening the door and welcoming you with open arms. Didn't the staff try and stop you? Didn't you set off alarms or appear on security cameras?"

Gypsy laughed. "Why, you have such a suspicious mind, Kittykins!" She patted her hair and spoke affectedly, mocking Hayley. Her eyes danced as she looked back at Kit.

"You know Miss Piranha is always bringing her hangers-on back, hoping they'll swoon over her latest designer dress or diamond studded necklace or whatever? The staff assumed I was one of her friends from school when they saw me so why would they bother with cameras and alarms? As for getting in, simples. Kane Phillips showed me how. He told me he did the place over way back before the Smiths moved in. The little window never closes to properly because the lock is fake and there's a secret staircase hidden in the wall for lovers' trysts, see? They must have been a frisky lot back when Hartwell Mansion was first built! And I think we both know how Hayley got the keys to Summer Bay High to pull her dirty trick."

"Kim Hyde?" Kit suggested.

Gypsy nodded agreement. "Kim Hyde. Nice enough guy, but when it comes to Hayley…"

"Brains in Pants!" Kit supplied.

_"And _a bit too dim to ask why she wanted them in the first place," Gypsy added. "The perfect Patsy."

Kim Hyde had been trying to impress Hayley ever since he started Summer Bay High and Kim's Dad just happened to be _Principal _Barry Hyde. Hayley would easily have sweet-talked him into stealing the keys from his father's briefcase. No doubt that jerk Adam _had_ showed Miss Piranha the photo and then, hoping to get inside the ice queen's knickers, had happily gone along with her idea to have it printed and enlarged for public display.

An aching loneliness overwhelmed her as she recollected stumbling across the poster-sized picture of her naked self when she, Jack, Noah and Kit, using the spare keys Noah was entrusted with as school counsellor, had taken shelter from the Baystormer.

It was only when Kit stroked her back that she realised she was crying. "I'm sorry, Gyps," Kit said gently. "Sorry too I can't be Will or Jack…"

"You're a friend, Kit," Gypsy said in a quiet, subdued voice. She smiled sadly. "The only one I have even if we _did_ only bond through our mutual hatred of Miss Piranha. And sometimes you don't need sex. Sometimes you just need a hug from a girlfriend."

Kit immediately embraced her warmly. "You got it, girlfriend! And any time you want payback on our mutual enemy you got that too."

"Thanks. It might be a bit sooner than you think." Gypsy pulled herself together and impatiently brushed away her tears, angry with herself for letting Hayley get to her so much. "Kane Phillips took me on a short tour. Guess whose bedroom is just down the corridor from the guest rooms? While everybody's busy putting out the fire, guess whose bedroom we could trash?"

Kit returned her broad grin. Hayley had made her life hell when she found out she'd had an alcohol problem. And she was furious with Miss Piranha for destroying what little self-esteem Gypsy had managed to build up behind that tough, confident façade. Revenge was going to be sweet.

"Deal!" she said emphatically.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the day she died, Lady Eleanor Hartwell smoothed down the satin wedding dress and placed her wedding veil carefully over her head. A glorious bridal bouquet of red and white roses had arrived, delivered in error by an over-zealous florist, unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the wedding had been cancelled. She picked up the flowers and sniffed their beautiful scents, and as she did so caught sight of her reflection in the three-winged mirror of the mahogany dressing table. Years ago when she'd been but a small child, she and her great friend Arabella would often amuse themselves with infant games, pretending that the dresser's intricate carvings of plants and fruit were real or that they could appear and disappear at will by hiding from the mirror. The room had rung with laughter and friendship then. There was no laughter, no friends, now. Today, on the day that should have been the happiest of her life, there was nothing but emptiness.

She lifted the train of her wedding dress and walked slowly, quietly down the hidden staircase of Hartwell Mansion, making her way to Hartwell Woods, to where the river waited patiently, sparkling and chattering in the sunlight. She lifted back the bridal veil and gazed deep into the water that would soon be her grave.

The golden rays of the sun, the pure whiteness of the clouds, the glittering blue of the river, that day all screamed at her eyes, the river's hushed lapping seemed to crash like the thunder of her heartbeat, the wind, no more than a zephyr, whooshed in her ears. A few curled, dead leaves, fallen like tears down from the Weeping Willow across the bank, floated haphazardly downstream towards their sad destiny, and she threw the bouquet in after them, watching as though in a dream while the roses, quickly separated and destroyed, joined the melancholy journey. A movement close by, almost imperceptible, caught her attention. A large grey spider hurried by, busy with its life and living, busy with a world no longer hers. And then she jumped, shocked by the river's iciness as it took her in its arms. The water began to fill her lungs, and she surrendered to her fate, closing her eyes forever, as blackness enfolded…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She found herself in Hartwell Woods. How long had passed since she stood by the river, she could not tell. Her body was weightless, her footfall noiseless, her every breath out of step with time. Grey half-light streamed down through the hushed treetops and silver clouds sailed in a dark pool of sky. A sudden rush of air disturbed the night. A flock of bats darkened the moon briefly and then were gone. Silence fell once more. Eerie, heavy, empty silence. Lost, forsaken, alone in death. Waiting.

But no peace came. No quietude, no perfect sleep. Only an aching loneliness, a yearning for the love of another human being, consumed her.

She walked the places she had walked in life. In Hartwell Mansion some of the old furniture remained: the mahogany grandfather clock in the hall; the specially commissioned painting of Hartwell Woods; the triple-mirrored dresser at which she had once sat. Sometimes she thought the girl who looked in the mirror saw her and she would try to speak with her but the girl was too afraid and, though perhaps the same age as Eleanor had been, would snatch up the toy bear that rested on her bed, clinging to it like a terrified child while her eyes scanned the room in terror.

Yet somehow Eleanor knew she would find her freedom in the very room that many, many years ago had been her own. And never had she been more sure than she had been tonight, drawn as she was like a magnet to another so wronged, so friendless, so broken-hearted, drawn more and more to the one who could finally set her free.

In the vast grounds where the Summer House had once stood, she had at last been able to tell her story.

_"Harry, as my intended, took my wealth, my home, everything I owned. My godmother was cast out like a pauper and had no choice but to throw herself on the mercy of relatives. And I…I roam for eternity..."_

The voice faded away. Memories were all that was left, all that had always been, in every blade of grass, every ripple of the river, every whisper of the breeze, triggering Megan's psychic powers to see and hear all that had gone before.

And, exhausted by the burden, she began to weaken now.

Images flooded her mind: Noah and Jack racing to put out the fire; Irene, helpless, trapped by the fallen beam of a collapsed roof; Barry, near death, his son Kim, his face tear-streaked, kneeling nearby pumping water from his father's chest and desperately begging him to live; Will, gritting his teeth in pain, injured, alone, on a narrow, stony ledge down one of the old pits that dotted the Ancient Path of Whitelady Woods; Kane and Martha, isolated on an island in the ocean and both badly hurt; Cassie, unconscious, rich, red blood pouring from her temple; Gypsy and Kit laughing as they ran up the secret staircase; Hayley…_oh, God, Hayley!_

Megan saw the White Lady enter the room and then, like the last flame of a dying candle, her power flared, illuminating the scene with a brief, dazzling brightness, and then died.

And all she knew was that Lady Eleanor had lured Gypsy and Kit to Hartwell Mansion…to where Hayley's only chance of being saved lay in the hands of the two people who detested her most…

****_See Chapter 26: Tramps and Thieves_**


	53. Chapter 53

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I really need to begin drawing this story to a close now to concentrate on other writing projects so apologies if this latest chapter seems rushed. I realise it doesn't ring true that Gypsy, Hayley, Kit and Cassie would just be left to chat together after what happened but taking them through police procedures (and also more long explanations about the White Lady) would drag the fic out too much - not as if it isn't long enough already! ;D

_You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies _

_***_Party of the Year***

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

_Images flooded her mind: Noah and Jack racing to put out the fire; Irene, helpless, trapped by the fallen beam of a collapsed roof; Barry, near death, his son Kim, his face tear-streaked, kneeling nearby pumping water from his chest and desperately begging him to live; Will, gritting his teeth in pain, injured, alone, on a narrow, stony ledge down one of the old pits that dotted the Ancient Path of Whitelady Woods; Kane and Martha, isolated on an island in the ocean and both badly hurt; Cassie, unconscious, rich, red blood pouring from her temple; Gypsy and Kit laughing as they ran up the secret staircase; Hayley…oh, God, Hayley! _

_Megan saw the White Lady enter the room and then, like the last flame of a dying candle, her power flared brightly, illuminating the scene, and all she knew for certain was that Lady Eleanor had lured Gypsy and Kit to Hartwell Mansion…to where Hayley's only chance of being saved lay in the hands of the two people who detested her most… _**(chapter 52: Vengeance)**

*****CHAPTER 53*****

*****CLOSURE*****

Gypsy never knew how or why or she moved so fast. All that she knew was that something in her far deeper than she ever knew existed flew into her heart and to her surprise she cared. She cared about what was happening to Hayley, about Cass, about so many people…

She was vaguely aware of Kit helping a groaning Cassie to her feet; she vaguely remembered that the slumped figure of Cassie in the doorway had alerted them to something being very wrong, as she tore across the room and fought with Hayley's attacker. She heard herself yelling at him, screaming, kicking, scratching. To her relief, she suddenly wasn't alone in the fight any more. Other people had come to help, other students from Summer Bay High. She kicked him once more as her helpers dragged him away and heard Hayley gasp as in the struggle the scarf that masked his face slipped away to reveal Hayley's so-called friend Adam Kerr.

"Ssh, ssh, it's okay now, it's okay," she soothed as though to a tiny child as she enveloped her sobbing enemy in her arms .

XXXXX

When Megan woke at last from the blackness and opened her eyes to the early morning light filtering through the trees, faded images tumbled crazily around her head like the lingering residue of a peculiar dream. Dizzy and crook, she staggered uneasily to her feet, for the first time in her life self doubt about her psychic powers creeping in. What was the point of _knowing?_ What was the point of _feeling_ the pain and distress of her friends when she could do nothing at all to help? She was alone out here by Whitelady Woods and even if there had been anyone to tell, how would she get the authorities to listen? How could she help so many people? The task seemed impossible.

"I don't know what to do." She spoke aloud to the sun-glowing sky, tears of helplessness and frustration wetting her cheeks. "Please someone tell me what the answer is!"

"Friendship." A crisp voice sliced the air.

A mysterious beam of green light shone through the trees of Whitelady Woods. As Megan watched transfixed it gradually became a tremulous white shape. Where over the centuries it had often been glimpsed before, stood the shimmering, translucent figure of a beautiful young bride. The White Lady.

The leaves of hundreds of trees rustled and sighed with whispers.

"Megan, it is I, Eleanor. My time here is short and I must be swift. I used you in order to connect, which weakened you. For this, I apologize, but it was borne of necessity. Like I, the girls named Gypsy and Hayley each nursed a broken heart and shut out all those who would love. It drew me to them. When Gypsy wore the wedding dress my link with her grew stronger than ever. Through you, her selfless act of friendship became mine and released me from being bound forever to this earth. I am at last free. I wished however to repay your kindness. I have ensured all your friends are safe but one. No matter how I tried I could not reach the boy trapped in the Woods…" The figure began to fade away again, its light diminishing as the whispers fragmented and Megan strained her ears to understand. "Trees…mystical powers block my own…another death…I am losing…wish you well…"

The White Lady disintegrated and silence fell once more.

XXXXX

The Summer Bay emergency calls had come in thick and fast. The strange thing was, nobody ever did find out who made them. The telephone number proved not to exist. The voice had been female, emotionless. It gave nothing more than the details of the injured person and where they were. The mystery remains to this day.

XXXXX

Much, much later, when fire fighters had quenched the fire and partygoers begun to wind their way homewards, when the police had taken dozens of statements and contacted families, Gypsy remembered anew that they were enemies and always would be. She and Kit sat at the little dining table, huddled together whispering, while Hayley and Cassie sat side by side on the two-seater sofa. The police had brought them hot drinks then left the four alone together in one of the smaller lounges of Hartwell Mansion. They had assumed they were friends and as friends would like a little time out.

But now the air seemed to crackle with hostility and Hayley drew a deep breath before she spoke.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, "for what you did."

Dusk was falling, darkening the as yet unlit room. Flashing blue and white lights from emergency vehicles danced intermittently on the walls and emergency sirens wailed like banshees. A chill crept in through the open window but Gypsy's glare was even icier. Hayley looked quickly back down into the mug of hot chocolate she held as if fascinated by its swirly brown depths.

She was trembling and glad Cassie was with her. You needed friends more than ever at times like this. She had been so close to being raped. It would have happened without Gypsy. Her heart still thudded with fear though she was calmer now. Nobody had managed to get in touch with her brother Will yet, but she had spoken on the phone to both her adoptive parents. Their concern had stunned her. She'd always thought they didn't care about her. How could she have been so wrong? They might not be her biological Mum and Dad but they really did love her.

George Smith had cancelled his important business meetings in London and booked the earliest flight out. He'd be back on Australian soil tomorrow. Julie Smith, already on her way back from the States when she'd taken Hayley's call, had a surprise announcement. Not only was Hayley's brother Nick coming home now that the movie he'd starred in was finished, but Nick's _girlfriend_ was with them! Hayley hadn't even thought of her kid brother as being old enough to have a serious girlfriend. It was kind of cute.

Brooke had begged to say a _"quick hi"_ and then prattled happily about nail varnish and what was the best hairstyle when travelling and what did Hayley think of the shocking gossip about Katie Price, hot off the press in the latest edition of _Hello_? She spoke as if she'd known her forever and Hayley found herself smiling. Mum had only told Nick and Brooke a watered-down version of what had happened, that Hayley (she felt a wonderful shiver of happiness as she heard Julie describe her to Brooke as _"my daughter"_) had thrown a party while her parents were away and things gone badly wrong, but it was obvious Brooke was trying to console her. Hayley had a feeling she was going to like Brooke. A lot. Strange to think not so long ago she'd been way too wrapped up in herself to like anyone. Even poor Cassie, whom she'd mockingly nicknamed Crazy Cassie, and yet who'd been such a good friend to her. Well, she'd never again make the mistake of not valuing true friendship. Heaps of things had changed since the party.

It had been a terrible shock to realise her attacker had been her classmate Adam Kerr. Like Hayley, he'd looked down on anyone who didn't have wealth or beauty. Cassie had always warned her not to trust him, but back then she'd thought Cassie too stupid to know anything. He'd been arrested. It turned out he'd persuaded some mates to start a small fire as a distraction while he _"talked to"_ Hayley, but the fire had gotten out of control. His friends, alerted by the noise, had been just as shocked as everyone else by what was happening and fortunately just in time to help Gypsy drag him away. They knew he was keen on Hayley, they told the police, but they never dreamed he'd do something like this.

"Yeh, well, I wasn't just gonna let you get raped, was I?" Gyspy snapped, bringing Hayley back to the present. "See, despite your dirty trick of putting the picture up in the school and unlike you _I've _got standards."

Hayley jerked her chin upwards, unaware of the cream moustache that laced her upper lip.

"What picture? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, cut the innocent act, Princess Piranha!" Gypsy spat. "Who do you think you're fooling?"

"Gyps, cool it," Kit said gently.

Gypsy came crashing down from the heights of her anger, reminding herself Hayley had been through a terrible ordeal. It was hard though. Real hard when Hayley had been so cruel.

"The photo of me naked." She tried to keep her voice even. "The one you blew up, pinned up in the students' common room at Summer Bay High and wrote _slut_ across in giant letters with bright red lipstick. Remember now?"

Hayley shook her head, her long, silky blonde hair falling across her face. She sounded tearful. "I don't know what you're talking about, Gypsy. I really, truly don't."

She felt Cassie squeeze her arm reassuringly and, blinking back tears, gave her a half smile.

Kit dug into the pocket of her trousers and produced a lipstick engraved _"Hayley S"_.

"I picked this up near the picture. You can't deny it's yours. Who else can afford expensive stuff like this? Who else would go to all the trouble of having their own name engraved on their very own designer lipstick case? Or be big-headed enough to even _think_ of it?" She couldn't help adding, bristling as she remembered Gypsy sobbing broken-heartedly and destroyed.

Hayley continued to stare at her.

"Yes, okay, I admit it's mine, but I swear I don't know how it got…."

"Let me spell it out to you," Gypsy scathingly interrupted. "Adam Kerr took my photo. He showed it to you. You got it blown up and used Kim Hyde's puppy dog crush on you to persuade him to steal his Dad's keys to the school. Then you and that sick freak Kerr broke into Summer Bay High to put the photo on the wall. Not content with that, you had to write _"slut"_ across it. But you made a big mistake because you left behind evidence that you'd been there. I'm sorry for what happened to you tonight, Hayley, but no way am I sorry I scared you half to death when I dressed up as the White Lady. You're bitter and twisted and you deserved _that." _

"I didn't! I didn't do _anything!"_ Hayley still protested vehemently though Gypsy and Kit looked unconvinced. "Why are you lying?"

To everyone's astonishment, Cassie who had been sitting quietly listening, suddenly sprang to her feet, clasping both hands over her mouth.

"Omigod! She cried guiltily. "This is all my fault!"


	54. Chapter 54

_You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smth's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies_

***Party of the Year***

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

**_***Chapter 54***_**

**_***New Beginnings***_**

Cassie sat down heavily, her knees buckling under her. Her heart sank miserably as she realized everything she'd have to admit to. But it _wasn't_ Hayley's fault about the picture. She could do this no matter how much it hurt. She _would _do this for her friend.

She took a deep breath. _"I _asked Kane Phillips to get the keys to Summer Bay High. So he did."

"Why?" Kit asked blankly.

Cassie shrugged. "Well, because I gave him a hundred dollars."

"Don't be thick!" Gypsy snapped impatiently. God, she never thought she'd agree with anything prissy-features Hayley Smith said or did, but no wonder Miss Piranha called her Crazy Cassie!

"Cassie's NOT thick," Hayley said, her uncharacteristic loyalty stunning both Kit and Gypsy into silence for a moment.

"Okay," Gypsy said at last. "I guess we just got our wires crossed. Kit meant what did you want the keys _for? _And where did you get a hundred dollars _from? _No offence, but you're Gran's not exactly rolling in dosh, is she? Unless…" she looked suspiciously from Cassie to Hayley.

Cassie shook her head. "It wasn't anything to do with Hayley. I…I overheard Adam Kerr and his mates talking about needing to get the keys to Summer Bay High. They said Kane'd easily be able to get them but he hated Adam so…so…"

**_Summer Bay High_**

**_The Day Before the Party_**

"What the **** do you want?" Adam sneered.

Cassie tried to pretend she hadn't heard his mates sniggering behind her back. She knew she was a standing joke. She knew everybody thought she was crazy. But she wasn't. She didn't know how else to deal with her terrible secret. Why did Adam have to look her up and down in that creepy way that reminded her so much of it?

Not so long ago, Cassie had actually been flattered when Adam Kerr asked her out. She'd never particularly _liked_ him, but he _was _rich and good-looking and she was desperate to have a boyfriend so it all made sense in a mixed up kind of way. She was so sure having a boyfriend would make her "normal". Even though his recent death had finally ended the nightmare, she still didn't feel normal because of what happened with Uncle Ben.

He'd sexually abused her for years.

It had begun when she was barely eleven years old, when Uncle Ben left the Army and came to live with Cassie and her grandmother on their isolated farm. Nobody knew because there was no one to tell. How could she bring herself to tell Gran? Ben was her adored only son and it would surely have broken her heart. And back then there had been no friends to confide in because Cassie had had no friends. Not knowing how to deal with the abuse, she retreated into herself, sometimes rocking herself to and fro for hours. People said she was crazy and she moved to school after school after school because of the bullying. It was only when she met Martha "Mac" MacKenzie at Summer Bay High that she found a friend at last. But Mac still didn't know about the abuse. Cassie hadn't yet plucked up courage to tell anyone.

Mac, who had a fiery on/off relationship with Jack Holden, couldn't see what was the big deal about having a boyfriend. She had never liked Adam and tried to talk her friend out of dating him. Cassie stubbornly refused to listen. But Mac had been right.

They'd gone to catch a movie at Yabbie Creek and in the darkness Adam suddenly slid his hand down from her shoulder and into her clothes to loosen her bra strap, his fingers crawling towards and touching her naked breast. It brought back memories of all the terrible things her uncle had done and she fled outside in terror. Adam seemed fine, even apologetic, about it at the time, but ever since he'd made derogatory remarks about Cassie and Martha being dykes.

But then Cassie had another brainwave. No matter what Mac said about him being bad news, Kane Phillips had lovely eyes and in all the romantic novels Cassie read the hero always had lovely eyes - which meant he was a nice guy. So that meant Kane had to be a nice guy underneath his roughness, right? Mac had raised her own eyes Heavenwards when Cassie put forward her theory.

But Cassie did genuinely like Kane. Maybe if she gave him a handed dollars to get the keys he'd be impressed enough to ask her out? There _was_ something about his deep blue eyes that made her feel he was a different person behind the cruel tough guy. Unguarded moments that only she saw because, more than anyone, she understood. Nobody knew better than Cassie what it was like to be on the outside, alone and friendless, pretending on the surface everything was fine when all the while the loneliness gnawed away inside.

She'd recognised it too in Gypsy and Kit themselves though their "_friendship of convenience" _had now become a "_real friendship_", she added earnestly, breaking away from her narrative for a moment.

"True," Gypsy acknowledged sheepishly, taken aback by Cassie's perception. "It _was_ just a" friendship_ of convenience". _To begin with."

"Our mutual hatred of Hayley," Kit agreed. "Sorry, Hayles," she added, with an apologetic shrug.

"S'okay." Hayley's voice was barely audible. They'd had good reason to hate her. She'd used the fact Kit was an ex-alcoholic and the fact Gypsy had been so cruelly abandoned as a baby every way she could to make their lives a misery.

"After everything that happened with your uncle, Cass, and all that happened with Hayley tonight, it all seems so stupid and childish now," Gypsy said quietly. "But go on. If you're okay with talking about it, that is."

Somehow, somewhere, some time in the sharing of confidences, they had all come together. There was no more room on the two-seater couch and so she sat beside Cassie on its arm, listening intently, elbows on knees. Kit, who normally would never have dreamed of coming within a five-mile radius of arch enemy Hayley Smith, was voluntarily squeezed on the couch next to her.

"Yeh. I am." Cassie returned Gypsy's warm smile and continued.

"I could ask Kane to get the keys for you," she offered.

"You gonna **** him then? Or is it only chicks you do?" Adam scoffed.

Cassie flushed, wishing she dared slap the stupid smirk off his face.

"I'm not gay. Neither is Mac. But why should it matter? Would it be so terrible if we were?" She replied bravely although her voice turned into a high-pitched squeak.

"Maybe not," Adam drawled. "You and your hot babe up for a threesome?"

His mates openly guffawed at the crass remark and Cassie wanted to cry.

"Just give me the money and I'll get the keys," she said, on the verge of tears.

"Maybe she's paying _him_ to **** _her_," she heard Adam comment as she hurried away.

"I never thought of asking why he wanted the keys though. I just thought…"

Cassie left the silence to speak for itself. How could anyone have known Adam's sick plan? That, with the school alarm silenced, he would leave a poster-sized photograph of a naked Gypsy displayed on the wall of Summer Bay High for the whole school to gawp at? To violate her over and over by reminding everyone that she'd been found, no more than a day old, tied with rope and left on sharp, jagged cliffs to die in the searing heat of the unmerciful sun, dumped like a piece of trash. And just in case there should be any lingering doubt in anybody's mind about what she was and always would be, in giant red letters the world "slut" had been painted across with lipstick.

It was only by pure chance that Gypsy had been able to destroy the picture before Summer Bay High re-opened, when Noah, using the keys allocated him as school counsellor, had, with Kit, Gypsy and Jack, taken shelter there from the Baystormer.

"I don't know what I thought. That he wanted to cheat on exam papers…play a practical joke... I _didn't_ think really. And, well, I knew Kane wouldn't ask questions if he got the chance to make a few bucks…"

Cassie burnt up at the memory. Although he'd been quite happy to take the hundred dollars to steal the keys, Kane Phillips had mocked her in his usual way when she'd asked him. And yet his eyes didn't say what he said, she consoled her broken heart. His eyes said what so many lonely people said: if only someone would take the time to get to know them, they would be so very, very different.

When she returned with the keys, Adam was standing alone by a window, gazing out at something, the sun glistening on what looked like a cigarette lighter as he idly turned it over in his hands. Probably trying to make up his mind whether or not to go out for a smoke, Cassie thought. Wanting to get this over with quickly, she strode up behind.

He jumped sky high.

"****ing hell, why d'you have to sneak about like Creeping Jesus, you bloody retard?" He snapped, swiftly pocketing the item he'd been toying with. But not fast enough. It hadn't been a cigarette lighter, Cassie realised. It had been one of Hayley's three designer-engraved lipstick cases.

"I…I pretended I hadn't seen it. I just had to get away. The look on his face when he was staring out the window freaked me out. It reminded me of my Uncle when he…when he…" A tear trickled down Cassie's cheek and Hayley put her arm round her friend's shoulders "It wasn't _what _he was staring at…it was _who_…" She hiccuped back a sob. "I'm so sorry, Hayles. I tried to tell you, I swear…"

"I know you did. It's not your fault, Cass. I didn't listen," Hayley whispered, white-faced.

She'd been way too busy treating poor Cassie like dirt. Putting her down. Calling her stupid. Telling her she was butt ugly and jealous. But never once telling herself the truth: _she_ was jealous of Cassie and Martha's friendship. And she needn't have been. Why had it taken her so long to realise it? She didn't deserve them, but Cassie and Martha were the greatest friends she had ever had.

**The Island**

"Kane, what did you mean about the ghosts?" Martha asked.

They had grown comfortable together. Bonded in friendship. Exhausted, leaning on each other's shoulders, they slept in frequent short bursts of fitful sleep, and each time they woke their fingers were still locked together and the sea-cooled wind still danced on their faces.

Kane Phillips grinned lazily, watching small sailing clouds float through an azure sky as the ocean sang its timeless lullaby and gulls squawked and dived.

"What made you suddenly think of that?"

"I don't know. A dream, I guess. Were you winding me up or did it really happen?"

He paused for a moment as if weighing up whether or not she could take the truth. "Yeh. It did," he said hesitantly. "I wasn't winding you up, Mac. I _did_ see a grey, misty shape when we were out there on the water and it _did_ sound like it was calling something."

"My name, you said."

"Aw, that was just my imagination! It sounded like anything I wanted it to sound like."

She knew he was lying but it was a kind lie designed to protect her. Ice cold shivers ran down her spine and she snuggled closer. Her squeezed her hand to reassure and she breathed more easily, glad that in their enforced isolation, stranded on this tiny island, she had come to know him. A few short days ago she'd thought him a total jerk. But they were friends now. Friends trusted and looked out for one another.

"Wow! Seriously weird."

"Heaps of weird stuff seems to have happened in the build up to Hayley's party, don't it?" He said pensively. "World's Most Uptight Principal Barry Hyde and World's Most Cool School Secretary Irene Roberts getting it together as per Megan Ashcroft's latest prediction, Will finally breaking up with Gypsy, Kim Hyde getting beat in the swimming finals, Cassie paying me to nick the spare keys to Summer Bay High…"

"Cassie?" Martha repeated, startled. "What the hell did she want those for?"

"No idea. You know how weird she…sorry." He added when Martha gave him a look. "You know how Cassie sometimes gets these ideas? And she had the money up front, a hundred dollars, so…

"Didn't you think of asking her where she got it?" Martha bristled furiously. Cassie was like a kid sister to her. "She might have…"

But he suddenly interrupted with a whoop of joy although the damage done to his stomach quickly turned it into a spasm of coughing. "Jeeezus, I _thought _I heard something!" He managed to croak. "Mac, _look!"_

She raised her head as high as her own injuries would allow and if it hadn't been for the pain she could have the distance, a boat was approaching the island…

**Hartwell Mansion**

"Look, it's up to you whether or not you tell your Gran about Ben," Kit said, as Cassie finished telling her story. "Being Noah's girlfriend - well, fiancée now," she grinned happily at Gypsy, with whom she'd already shared the news; "and him being a counsellor I know how much confiding in someone can help. But it's your choice how much you tell and how much you don't. Counselling might help you reach that decision."

Cassie nodded. It was good to have friends to talk things over with. Friends cared. Just in the talking, she felt a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Gypsy had been silent for some time. At last she looked up, biting her lip. This wasn't going to be easy. Why should Hayley make things easy for her?

"Hayley, I owe you a massive, massive apology. I was so sure you put that photo up in Summer Bay High that I dressed up as the White Lady just to terrify you. I knew you were petrified of ghosts. I could've killed you."

She had washed off the luminous greasepaint and no longer wore the matching bonnet and gloves also borrowed from the school props department, but she still cut an odd figure dressed in a mud-splattered wedding dress borrowed from same.

"I want you to know something," Hayely said sincerely. "I think what that toerag Adam Kerr did to you was sick. And I hate him for what he did to you every bit as much as I hate him for what he did to me. I'd NEVER have done something like that."

Gypsy swallowed. "I know. At least, I know that _now_. I'm really, really sorry."

"And anyway it should've been _me_ who got payback," Cassie sighed. "I don't believe in ghosts so I would've been fine," she added, quite seriously.

"Cass, you dufus!" Gypsy spluttered.

Cassie looked up sharply, so used to being bullied that, despite her new-found confidence, she half expected it to begin all over again. Gypsy's lips were twitching. Kit seemed to be trying hard not to laugh. Even Hayley looked amused.

And then Hayley suddenly caught Gypsy's eye, which seemed to act like some secret signal to both Gypsy and Kit, and all three fell about laughing. Till they cried.

Yet it wasn't like the laughter of the bullies. It was a different kind of laughter. It made Cassie smile too. She had a feeling they had, each of them, moved on to another level.

That they would never go back again.

**Rescue**

Across the rudder of the police rescue boat, PC Jeff Hayes could just about make out the two Summer Bay High students. Exactly where and how it was claimed they would be.

Every single one of the emergency calls had been startlingly accurate.

Like the rest of his colleagues in the Summer Bay High police force, Jeff was whacked but on a high. Alerted by the same female caller in each case, they'd made several successful rescues. The rumour buzzing over the airwaves was that the calls had all been traced to a restaurant near Whitelady Woods that had been abandoned for many years…_from a telephone line disconnected decades ago…_

Jeff's wife, a police officer too, had told him of the ethereal-looking girl with the strange, piercing eyes of different colours, dressed in bizarre costume of wide-brimmed hat, baggy 1930s style trousers and high necked, puff-sleeved blouse teamed with dozens of rings, beads and bracelets, who had run frantically down the restaurant steps in laceless hobnail boots to greet them, long red hair flying wild and witch-like over her shoulders.

Kathy had thought at first that she'd been responsible for the emergency calls flooding into Summer Bay station and that it was all some kind of crazy student prank. But you didn't have to be a genius to figure out there was no way her mobile phone would be able to obtain a signal in that isolated area thick with woodland. And already the news filtering through was that none of the calls so far had been a hoax.

Someone was hurt in Whitelady Woods, the girl garbled, fallen down a pit near the Ancient Path; something about the White Lady hadn't been able to reach him. She said her name was Megan, that she was a student at Summer Bay High. No, she was not on any prescribed medication and no, she hadn't been taken illegal substances, she told them impatiently, she was psychic, that was how she knew, and could they please go look for her friend instead of wasting time asking their polite little questions?

It would be too late to save one person in Summer Bay though. Way too late…


	55. Chapter 55

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Decided to keep you in suspense a bit longer about who died. Have a lot of loose ends to tie up too so this epilogue will be split into at least one more chapter, maybe a third (neither of them written yet) as I explain what happened to all the characters. Apologies too for the long delay again. I've had a very close recent bereavement so some parts of this have been very difficult and poignant for me to write.

_Strictly no dags, dropkicks or uglies, Hayley Smith decreed. It was to be the party of the year. Nobody could ever guess it would be so much more than that…_

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

**Chapter 55**

**EPILOGUE**

**JIGSAW**

_**(Part One)**_

_Well, I asked a lot of questions_

_when I was three or four_

_Are there goblins, ghosts and witches,_

_monsters, murderers and more?_

_The fairytales read to me _

_Seemed full of death and gore_

_And pictures fell to pieces _

_In life's crazy jigsaw_

_And as I grew I wondered_

_At all the sadness I saw_

_So I asked the politicians _

_they looked me in the eyes_

_Smiling all the while they glibly spun their lies_

_They told me war was peace _

_and they told me peace was war_

_And pictures fell to pieces _

_In life's crazy jigsaw…_

It was a year to the day since their friend's death.

The morning rain had stopped and a burst of sunlight began to stream through the stained glass windows of the Summer Bay church. As though specially invited and eager to be part of the memorial service, a myriad of colours danced merrily inside like ribbons caught on a breeze. Blinking a little in the dusty brightness, Kit frowned up at the window's pictures. They looked like moons now. Or even dinner plates. But definitely not…

"Hard boiled eggs. I never heard anyone call them that before." Noah's mock-despairing whisper tickled her ear as he followed her gaze and read her mind. She stifled a giggle, no longer afraid to find humour in a House of God. She still wasn't quite convinced about life after death, supreme beings and heaven and angels, but she _was _prepared to give it the benefit of the doubt, she said, and, well, it _was_ a nice idea, even if it probably wasn't true though it _might_ be. And Noah laughed and kissed her. As he did now, sharing the memory.

XXXXXXXXX

It had been in the early days of their relationship. Lots of things still puzzled her about his faith but she was keen to learn.

"Noah, why do they have hard boiled eggs?"

Startled, Noah, who had been admiring the religious carvings in the wooden pews, looked up, half expecting to find a group of people picnicking in the aisles.

They had driven out to have lunch and visit a medieval church and Kit, bless her, was trying hard to take an interest in her fiancé's strong Christian beliefs. She had nodded gravely while he showed her the specially-created window where, he explained, lepers could gather outside to listen to the Mass, and she had asked intelligent questions about altars and chalices and ceremonies.

Now she indicated with an expansive wave of her hand, biting her lip in concentration. "Behind their heads. The saint people."

"Halos." Noah amusedly rolled his eyes to the Heaven where he believed his God and angels dwelled. "I love you, Kit Hunter. Even though you're crazy."

XXXXXXXXXX

Something made Cassie turn. She never knew why. There are many such moments in our lives. Perhaps some imperceptible sound or movement or scent alerts us or perhaps the knowledge comes from a power hidden too deep within our psyche to understand. She saw Kit and Noah kiss and she nudged Kim and nodded in their direction, her large brown eyes shining with happiness.

Kim squeezed her hand and grinned back. He was much more confident nowadays. He had to be. Being voted student representative at Summer Bay High meant liaising between pupils and staff, dealing with officialdom, queries, events, complaints and a thousand and one other things. He'd blushed to the very roots of his hair when stamping and applause greeted the result of the school election. Originally, he'd had no intention of even standing as a candidate but his friends and Cassie, his girlfriend, had talked him into it. Okay, anything for a quiet life, he'd agreed, and thought that would be an end to it.

Kim was the only one shocked when his landslide victory was announced.

He saw the proud look in his father's eyes and his heart soared. No, _somersaulted! _How could he ever have ever doubted his love for him? Barry might never be able to forgive himself for his terrible crime, but his son understood it had been done out of the pure, beautiful, unconditional love of a parent for a child. Cassie had helped him see that. They'd been going steady for a year now. A lot of things had changed in the last twelve months.

There was no pressure on him anymore to go to college. Kim had been offered a full-time job at the Yabbie Creek Animal Rescue Centre where he already worked as a volunteer. The pay was so low as to be almost non-existent and the hours were long and irregular but on the scale of job satisfaction the reading was off the scale. Being outdoors, working with animals, was what he'd always dreamed of doing. He would be taking up the post when he left Summer Bay High after taking his HSC next year. Surprisingly enough, everyone expected Kim to pass. He never would be academic, but his schoolwork had improved drastically now he was more relaxed, at peace with his father, and happy with Cassie.

It was odd how they had never been particularly close before the tragedy and yet afterwards they instinctively sought each other out.

Kim remarked on it once to Megan Ashcroft and she smiled her slow, knowing smile and said it was meant to be, that as gentle souls they would always be drawn together. It had been so since the beginning of time, she added. Go down to the beach very early on a quiet morning, Megan said, just as the sun begins to rise. Listen to the ebb and flow of the sea, let its music sweep into your soul and know then the eternal love of true friendship.

Had anybody else spoken in the same peculiar way that Megan did, they would have been laughed at. With Megan, it was different. She was the voice of logic and yet reassurance for those who found it difficult to believe, as Noah and others did so easily, that their friend had merely shed the shackles of mortality and gone on ahead to another time, another place, where eventually all would meet again. She had no belief in any organised religion, whether Christian or Buddhist, Sikh or Muslim. Megan's only faith was in the renewal of nature. That, just as spring begins anew year after year, those we loved would live on forever in our hearts. Nor did she have any answers as to who or what the White Lady was. Perhaps she really was the wraith of Lady Eleanor Hartwell tied to earth, perhaps she was no more than a memory. She didn't know and it didn't matter. All that mattered was love and friendship.

Everyone at Summer Bay High drew strength from Megan's simple words. Next month she and her boyfriend Tony Lombardi would be spending a year in Italy with his Italian family. But she had no qualms about leaving, she confided in Kim. With he and Cassie to look out for them, no student in the school would be alone.

Noah and Kit would be taking a gap year before Uni and TAFE. While he was away, Cassie, who still hadn't decided which career she wished to pursue, would take Noah's place as school counsellor at Summer Bay High. She had studied hard over the last year, taken counselling courses, worked alongside Noah, and most of all, was seeing a counsellor herself over her own terrible secret of her uncle's abuse. She knew how much it meant to have someone to confide in. And she would never forget the first day she had "flown solo" as Noah put it.

Cassie could hear the muffled sobs even before the little eleven-year-old knocked timidly on the door.

"Come in!" she called, hoping she'd injected just the right note of sympathy and brightness into her voice. First impressions were so very important. Students had to know they could trust her and that she wouldn't fall to pieces.

Lynette Bell - she hadn't introduced herself, but Cassie caught sight of the name on a school book peeking out of the bag that the younger student dropped to the floor as she sank defeatedly into the easy chair beside her - had obviously made the decision to see the school counsellor on the spur of the moment. There was thick, fresh mud on her trainers and her hair was scooped back into a pony tail as though she'd been headed for games and actually made it as far as the changing block before suddenly changing her mind and hurrying back. Cassie noted too the streak of mud across Lynette's cheek, the graze on her elbow and her dirt-smeared knees. She felt pretty damn certain that Lynette hadn't fallen over her own feet. She was right.

"I know you try and I know you're nice n'all, but you can't _really_ know what it's like," Lynette hiccupped at last, having sobbed for a full ten minutes before she spoke, absently tossing another tear-soaked tissue on top of the pile that was already gathering on the coffee table as though determined to build a miniature paper mountain. She plucked yet another from the box and drew a shaky breath. "You're so popular and everybody likes you. You can't possibly know what it's like to be…to be bullied."

Cassie's heart lurched in pity as she took Lynette's small, thin hand in her own and listened quietly as she told of the misery she'd endured for so long. It had started with whispers behind her back. Name calling. Sniggering at her hair, at her freckles, at whatever she wore, at whatever she said or did. Then it escalated. They hid her lunch, broke her glasses, tore her schoolbooks, smeared her locker with jam. They tripped her up. Pushed her down stairs. Sometimes, after school, a group would spring out from nowhere and chase her to the bus-stop hurling sharp stones and clumps of grass. It had been only two or three students who bullied her to begin with. Then it was seven or eight. Then a dozen or more. And then…She gave a weary, heartfelt sigh and said maybe everyone, because those who didn't join in watched from the sidelines and did nothing to stop it.

"I tried telling them to stop but it only ever made it worse." Now that she'd found courage enough to confide in someone the floodgates opened and Lynette poured out her heart. "I didn't know how to tell any of the teachers and I just _can't_ tell Mum or Dad. Mum miscarried twins just before I started here and she's still being treated for depression so the olds are always at the hospital and stuff. I don't want to worry them any more. I lie to them that I have heaps of friends and I love Summer Bay High."

Lynette had a dental appointment the sunny afternoon a shamefaced class of Summer Bay High Year Sevens sat listening to Cassandra Turner give a talk on bullying. She told of how badly she'd been bullied at high school until someone befriended her. Of how isolated and alone she'd felt. Of the hurt and humiliation. Sometimes she had to brush tears from her eyes and at times her voice was strangely croaky.

"It's not funny," Cassie finished. "It's not a game. It's not just something to do when you're bored. Bullying is much, much more. It's somebody's life you're destroying. I never, EVER want anyone else at Summer Bay High to go through what I went through. I hope WE'RE all better than that."

She never once mentioned Lynette. She gave no indication whatsoever that she was even aware anyone had been bullied among the newbies. But next day Lynette almost bowled her over as she arrived at school.

Kim was parking the car and Cassie was waiting for him to catch up with her, looking up at the sky and wondering if the rain would hold off for the beach barbie they'd been invited to that evening. It had teemed all night and the ground was still slippery. As Lynette proved, her heel sliding as she reached her mentor. She somehow managed to narrowly stop herself from causing a major collision between her head and Cassie's stomach.

"Sorry, sorry." She said breathlessly. Already she looked different. Her eyes were brighter and ready laughter tumbled from her lips. "I just wanted to say thanks for everything. And to tell you they said at the hospital Mum's getting better. And I didn't know you were bullied. Mia and Caitlin were telling me all about the talk you did yesterday. They said it was terrible, what happened to you, and I felt awful because I thought you'd always had it easy."

"Mia and Caitlin?" Cassie smiled back, finally able to get a word in.

"They're in my class. They're nice. Never bullied me or anything. We're going for ice creams at the Diner at lunchtime. Gotta go, we're meeting Hannah by the gates."

"Any time!" Cassie laughed.

"What was that all about?" Kim grinned, joining her as Lynette ran off again as though she couldn't afford to lose a single second.

"It was all about my future," Cassie replied, slipping her arm into his. "I've made up my mind. I want to be a social worker."


	56. Chapter 56

_Strictly no dags, dropkicks or uglies, Hayley Smith decreed. It was to be the party of the year. Nobody could ever guess it would be so much more than that…_

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

**CHAPTER 56**

**EPILOGUEJIGSAW**

_**(Part Two) **_

_I dreamed the jigsaw pieces_

_Crumbled and shattered_

_Turned cold as iceAnd like snowflakes scattered_

_But just when all seemed lost_

_Wild as a sea tempest tossed_

_I remembered a truth_

_I remembered you_

_For I've known family, lovers too_

_But friends made the circle that made me and you_

_So we'll laugh together,We'll cry together, _

_We'll talk and walk some more_

_Down the same road we've walked_

_A thousand times before_

_Funny, though the path is twisted_

_ And the signposts read all wrong_

_When you fall in step beside me _

_it's only half as long…_

So much had changed in the last twelve months, Barry Hyde reflected. He stood close to Irene at the memorial service, his heart soothed by the Summer Bay church's mixed scents of wood, incense and candlewax and his spirit calmed by its comforting air of love. His silent prayers sang their way to the Heavens and Angels. He had found his God again. Or, he amended, his God had never deserted him; he had ostracized himself from his God, believing himself beyond redemption. Once he confessed to his terrible secret, of how he had killed his wife Kerry in a moment of fury and terror to protect his infant son, a great weight fell from his shoulders.

With the help of Irene and his now grown son Kim, and the support of the Summer Bay community, he had coped with the court case that followed. Alone, it would have destroyed him. He'd been so fortunate to have friends and the forgiveness of his son and the woman who loved him. This quiet church, with its dancing, dust-ridden sunbeams and candles burning with timid, wavering yellow light beneath its statue of Madonna and Child, was the same church in which he and Irene had taken their wedding vows six months earlier. He closed his eyes and thanked his God that he had been so blessed with love.

The pianist began to play the intro of a song their friend had loved, the harmony perfect as the grace of a bird in flight. Gentle memories carried on its wings.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The wedding was meant to be a simple ceremony: his son Kim as best man and Gypsy Nash, young friend and confidant of Irene, as bridesmaid. There were to be just a handful of guests: Kim's girlfriend Cassie; Alf Stewart and Irene's grown-up children and their partners. Things didn't quite pan out like that.

The little church was bursting at the seams with friends and relatives, with the students he taught and with Summer Bay people, with well wishers and curious holidaymakers. Irene's children and their partners arrived for the ceremony and the day could not have been more perfect. Her face glowed with happiness as they hugged, kissed and wept together, teenage angst and teenage arguments long forgotten. They took their places in the pews, laughing in baffled amusement at the subdued noise as the crowds they'd had to fight their way through spilled over into grounds and even graveyard in a joyous blend of colour and voices.

Of course, the media was there too, shouting their intrusive questions, clamouring for their attention. Try at they might, however, they could not break down the bond of friendship that closed ranks in a wall of overwhelming support.

The couple's friends ferried reporters' questions and deliberately blocked would-be newspaper photographs until they themselves indicated they were ready to face the press. Barry offered to give a short interview if they would agree to leave immediately afterwards. Amazingly enough, the newsmen and women were satisfied with that. After all, they reasoned cynically, there was no one now to seek revenge: his story had lived and breathed and died many years ago. His son bore no grudges. There was no family to mourn the wife he had killed as she tried to drown their son in the same way she had already drowned their firstborn. Kerry, housebound by her agoraphobia, had been way too shy to make friends. There was no one to give him the grief he felt he so richly deserved.

No one to punish him save himself.

And only when he and Irene were alone again did he sob, breaking down in her arms as he had sobbed so many times before, drawing strength from her love, hushed in her whispers. For Barry Hyde had been forced to face an unpalatable truth about himself.

He was a coward.

To kill to protect his baby son had been an act of love. To bury his wife's body in an unmarked grave and keep the secret for years had been an act of selfishness. No matter what nightmares the years taunted him with they could never be punishment enough. No matter how many times he ran the images of that terrible night through his tormented mind and tried to tell himself all had been done for the love of his child, nothing could alter the fact he'd been too afraid to face up to the consequences of his crime. Even Kane Phillips had had had conscience and courage enough to show remorse for his own actions.

And, ironically, it had been Kane Phillips, once the most troublesome student in the school, who inadvertently shamed him into confession.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Phillips had changed, Irene remarked, the day before Barry, after months of intensive therapy since his near drowning, was due to return to Summer Bay High and resume his post of principal. The sneer and sarcasm had gone, she said, and he wasn't a loner anymore. He had friends nowadays, was always in the thick of some group. Kane and Martha McKenzie were often together too although there didn't seem to be any romantic liaison. Martha confided in Irene that she'd regularly accompanied him to see his mother in Rowan House Residential Centre and that Diane Phillips seemed to be slowly improving.

"None of us ever dreamed his mother was a patient in a psychiatric hospital. Or even that she was still alive," Irene mused, as they lay together.

She rested her head on Barry's chest as they curled together and she gently traced her finger across his lips as she told him of the many changes at Summer Bay High.

"It will be fine tomorrow," she promised.

He believed her. He believed everything about the woman he loved with every fibre of his being. She knew he had killed his wife to protect his child. She knew that, in terror and confusion, he had buried the body on a remote hill, the only witnesses his sister, now dead herself, and his infant son. But nor did she pressure him into confessing to the authorities. It will be in your own time, at your own pace, Irene said. And her brown eyes were full of love for him.

The day Barry Hyde cleansed his soul was bathed in sunlight and kissed with gentle breezes.

He leaned on Kim's arm as he and Irene helped Barry negotiate the steps of Summer Bay High. Irene, Kim and Cassie had been sharing amused looks the whole car journey and now he knew why. Above the main entrance, the students had strung up dozens of balloons and home-made banners of welcome. Donald Fisher, who would retire once Barry was back in the swing of things, stood on the top step, one hand placed behind his back like a soldier.

"Welcome back, Mr Hyde."

"Thank you, Mr Fisher. I am indeed honoured and humbled by the welcome."

_"Daaaddd!"_ Kim half groaned, half laughed.

Barry and Irene had met Donald and his partner June a few times socially since his return from America and were on first name terms, but in school hours both eschewed informality.

"Old habits die hard," Barry smiled sheepishly, briefly puzzled as to why Cassie suddenly felt the need to race ahead to join Principal Fisher on the top step, but it all happening too quickly for him to think of any reason.

And then he discovered why. Like the Pied Piper, he seemed to have acquired a multitude of followers. An almost empty yard was quickly filling with students and noise.

"Mr Hyde, on behalf of every student in Summer Bay High, WELCOME BACK! Three cheers for Mr Hyde!" Cassie shouted into the megaphone that Don Fisher had produced from behind, both grinning broadly, for the plan they'd hatched had gone like clockwork. And she waved to the assembled crowd as though conducting an imaginary orchestra.

The would-be orchestra needed no second prompting. Loud cheers and thunderous applause immediately followed. If Barry had had a hand free at that moment he would surely have wiped away the tears that sprang to his eyes. Unfortunately, both hands were required to grasp his crutches and, simply because they could, those damn tears went right on ahead and trickled down his face to glisten on his cheeks and destroy forever his tough, no-nonsense image. If truth be told, however, Barry Hyde was the only one who still believed there _was_ a tough, no-nonsense image. The Summer Bay High students had long since seen through his façade, from the very moment he fell in love with Irene Roberts, in fact, and they knew he more than deserved his nickname of Robert Louis Stevenson's creation Dr Jekyll, the gentle, sensitive alter ego of the fictional Mr Hyde.

And then his street cred, as Kim would call it, was lost forever too. Irene squeezed his arm and kissed his tear-stained cheek and the deafening applause became peppered with wolf whistles and shouts of approval. Forgetting his stern persona, unaware he was the only one who thought it even existed, Barry laughed aloud, no longer the same man who had once been too afraid to show emotion.

It seemed wherever he went in Summer Bay High there was yet someone else who wanted to congratulate him. Flattered and embarrassed by his popularity, Barry found it exhausted him too. He hadn't realised just how much being back teaching would tire him out. Irene had some secretarial work to catch up on in the afternoon and he told her he would be fine while she caught up with it: he had a long free period so he would sit in the classroom and read up on some notes until his class arrived.

He never made it that far.

Barry's arms were aching from the extra effort required for getting to and fro and he had paused outside Year 12's common room when a wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him. He leaned against the corridor wall, fighting to catch his breath. Because of the sticky afternoon heat, the common room door had been left wide open and open windows blew inside refreshing breaths of cooling air. Normally at this time, when the study period happened to be a particularly long one, a dozen students or more might have been inside, reading, relaxing or chatting, but the glorious day invited all to study outdoors or sunbathe on the nearby beach. And normally Principal Barry Hyde, a stickler for rules and regulations, would never have dreamed of trespassing on "student only" territory, but his weak body refused to take him much further.

Fervently hoping the students would overlook what he personally regarded as a major transgression, he guiltily limped his way towards a high-back, winged armchair. Having been in Summer Bay High for longer than anyone could remember, it was affectionately nicknamed Alf after Alf Stewart, well known Summer Bay resident, who could trace his ancestry in a direct line centuries back to one of the original founders of what was then a little fishing village named Sun Bay. It was where students would often sit if they wanted forty winks, for it faced the window that looked out on to a corner wall surrounding the little Victorian flower garden and offered the greatest solitude. Not only was there very rarely anyone walking past outside, but inside too the high back concealed whoever was seated. Stretching the crutches comfortably out in front of him, Barry closed his eyes for what he imagined would be no more than five minutes…

He awoke to Martha Mackenzie's distinctive Brookdown accent and from the urgency with which she spoke, he concluded a long and intense conversation must have taken place.

"…so you can't keep beating yourself up like this. You've told Cassie and Hayley you're sorry. _They_ know you are. You can't change the past."

Barry was about to speak, cough, tap one of the crutches on the ground, anything to alert them to there being someone else present at their obviously very private discussion. But it was too late, the talk had already moved on.

"I _wish_ I could though, Mac. I wish I…" the words, choked with emotion, were barely audible.

"But you can hold your head high! Kane, _trust_ me on this," she added, as a derisive snort met her remark. "Remember what we promised back on the island? That we'd never, ever have a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, but we'd always be friends? And as your friend I'm telling you this, never, ever forget you can hold your head high _because you faced up to what you did._ Aw, how about we go take a walk on the beach?" She continued gently when her companion, perhaps mulling over her speech, gave no answer except a small sigh. "You say you always feel better by the sea."

Barry sat there for a long, long time after they'd gone. _You faced up to what you did._ The words haunted him. He looked deep inside himself and saw only darkness. He had no more excuses to keep his secret. Kim was no longer the small child to nurture and protect. For all the right reasons, he had done a terrible thing. For all the wrong reasons, he had kept his counsel years after the crime. He stared out at the nothingness of the brickwork that must mockingly foretell his future.

Kim and Cassie had the afternoon off and were travelling with a group of friends down to a rock festival. The gang were staying over with cars, tents and sleeping bags and wouldn't be back for a couple of days. He and Irene were alone that evening when he told her it was time for him to confess.

Weeping softly, she said nothing but took him into the tenderness of her arms. Kissing, holding, taking comfort from each other in the warmth of their entwined bodies, they lay together and gave to each other their love. At last, with heavy hearts, they showered, dressed, packed the few things they thought he might need. Their first stop was at the old red-brick church in Yabbie Creek, where he knelt at the altar and said a prayer to his God. And then, under the harsh gaze of the watching moon, they drove along the steep, rickety original coast road, silent now save for the lapping of the ocean and the cries of silver-tipped gulls flying home to their nests, to the cold, sombre lights of Yabbie Creek police station.

A handwritten, emotional letter to Kim had been placed behind the steady ticking of the mantelshelf clock.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The beautiful ripples of piano music sailed on the air. Thinking of the song's poignant words, Barry wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. Tears of sadness for those gone before and tears of gratitude for those friends who stood with him now.

The jail sentence he expected never happened. In the wake of the massive publicity given his case as a _"pillar of the community turned killer"_ came overwhelming sympathy. Among the hate mail and the crank mail, messages of support flooded in from all over the world. Stories they had heard, that some had even lived through, of euthanasia, of post-natal depression, of those who had killed out of love. Ordinary people like you and I trying to make sense of a world that never will.

He was given a suspended sentence, allowed to continue teaching and instructed he must not leave Summer Bay for a period of five years. The latter was an easy option. His friends were in Summer Bay. His family. Those who would always love and support him.

He felt his hand being pulled away from his face and, smiling a watery smile, he locked his fingers into his wife's own. Their eyes met. It was friendship that had given him the strength to go on. Love and friendship that held them together. His heart twanged in happiness and his voice rose in song.

* _"When you're weary, feeling small_

_When tears are in your eyes_

_I will dry them all…"_

*_Bridge Over Trouble Water (Paul Simon)_


	57. Chapter 57

_**You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies **_

*****Party of the Year*** **

**This story is based on an original idea by Skykat **

**EPILOGUE**

**JIGSAW ****(Part Three) **

**FINAL CHAPTER**

They found Will, badly injured, trapped down a deep pit near Whitelady Woods' Ancient Path, just in time. Another half hour or so, Dr Williamson said, and he might not have made it at all. Hearing that sombre statement seemed to wake up something in Hayley and Gypsy. Being his sister and his girlfriend, they'd been driven together to the hospital by the police, who'd broken to them the news of Will's accident. They were quickly enfolded into Hayley's little family group: her brother Nick, there with his American girlfriend Brooke, and Hayley's adoptive parents, Julie and George. But, although they stood together and seemed to have called an uneasy truce, there was still a distance between them.

Rain was pattering against the windows, casting gloomy shadows in the little private waiting area, and a sudden gush of wind sent a pile of fallen brittle leaves scurrying along the path. Brooke, who'd never met Will but had been told so much about him, looked up and wiped her eyes. Hayley shivered and her mother's arm tightened around her.

"I'm glad you're my Mum," she whispered, surprising herself.

She had always sarcastically called her adoptive mother Julie just because she knew it hurt. In fact, the more she'd been able to hurt her, the better. Hayley had been delighted when she'd discovered that, as a teenager, Julie had been obese and that her childhood had been lonely and poverty-stricken. She'd loved to hurl cruel jibes about her past, gloating when she saw her pain. She swallowed a shaky breath, expecting to be reminded of it.

But Julie only tenderly swept back her hair as though she were a very young child.

"And I'm glad you're my daughter," she replied softly.

"We'll always be here for you, princess. For all of our kids." George stroked her back and squeezed Nick's shoulder.

Hearing the catch in his voice, knowing he was trying to be strong for all their sakes, Hayley blinked back tears. All those wasted years when she'd resented Julie and George taking the place of her "real" Mum and Dad. They never did love her brothers more than Hayley. They never did freeze her out. It had been Hayley who froze _them_ out. They loved her every bit as much as her own parents had loved her. Why had it taken her so long to realise?

And suddenly, inexplicably, her heart twanged for Gypsy.

Like Hayley, Gypsy too had been adopted. But Hayley had always had her brothers. She had had her parents until the tragic accident when she was five years old. She had always been loved.

Poor Gypsy was barely a day or two old when someone determinedly climbed jagged cliffs, tied her so tightly that the ropes cut into her skin, then left her to die, naked and alone, in the searing heat of a blazing midday sun.

Gypsy, who'd slept with dozens of guys but only ever truly loved Will, was watching the fallen leaves hurry on by, their day and their lives all done. Perhaps she had a name once. Perhaps she had brothers, sisters. Nobody would ever know.

"He'll be okay, Gyps," Hayley said gently.

"I know." Gypsy returned Hayley's reassurance in the same conciliatory tones. This wasn't about them and their petty feuds anymore. It was about a boy they both loved.

And then at last Dr Williamson came to give them all the welcome news that they would allow visitors. No more than two at a time and no more than ten minutes to avoid exhausting the patient, he added, he was still very sick. But, he was pleased to tell them, Will was doing much better than anyone expected. Dr Williamson smiled as Nick punched the air and yelled _"Yesss!" _and Hayley and Gypsy flung their arms around each other, sobbing with relief.

"Oh, God, you guys are so lucky," Brooke said poignantly, as Julie and George went in to visit, and Hayley and Gypsy sheepishly broke away from their spontaneous hug. "So very lucky to be best friends and to have each other. I always, always wished I had a girlfriend I could talk to."

Strangely, Hayley and Gypsy didn't correct her on the "best friends" mistake.

"You have us…" they both began.

"See what I mean?" Brooke grinned at Nick. "They know each other so well they even say exactly the same thing at the same time! It's like a telescope connection," She continued talkatively, turning her attention back to Hayley and Gypsy. "I watched a TV show once about these triplets who had a telescope connection. It was kinda freaky, but cool."

But Nick, for once, was speechless, staring at Hayley as if he'd never seen her before. And, in some ways, he hadn't. Not this kind, thoughtful Hayley anyway. Like Will, he'd always stayed out of his sister's squabbles, but he was well aware that she and Gypsy were far from being friends. Or, at least, they hadn't been when he'd left for Hollywood. Nick didn't rate his own acting as highly as others did. Modestly, he reckoned he'd been plucked from drama school more because he looked perfect to play Harry in the low budget movie _A Lonely Heart Never Sleeps _than because of his skills. But, after years of training to be an actor, he did pride himself on being able to tell what was real and what was fake. And if Hayley wasn't being genuine right now, then she deserved an Oscar for this performance!

Will, too, was baffled.

"My two favourite ladies," he croaked, as Gypsy and Hayley sat at either side of his bed.

"Smoothie," Gypsy teased, a lump coming to her throat, hiding from him her dismay at how vulnerable he looked in the whiteness of the hospital bed, though she shared a telling glance with Hayley. She bent over to kiss him, her gorgeous red hair falling over his face like rain. Despite the agonizing pain in his ribs, Will couldn't resist cupping her face in his hands and kissing those full, cherry red lips.

"I love you, Gyps," he said, when finally the need for air forced them apart.

"Will." she licked her lips as though to taste him again, her beautiful gold-flecked green eyes pensive. "I was a fool to push you away. Can you forgive me?"

"Gyps, are you crazy?" He gasped in disbelief. "Can _you_ forgive _me_ for being such a jerk?"

Gypsy wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You've never been a jerk, Will Smith. I've been the jerk. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you and I swear I'll never, ever let you go again. I'm being selfish," she added guiltily to Hayley. "I'm hogging Will and not giving you two a chance to talk."

"It's okay." Hayley smiled.

To Will's amazement, she had said nothing when he and Gypsy smooched. Now she kissed her brother's forehead.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she admonished. "I thought you were a goner. And, I'm warning you, if you ever do anything like nearly dying again, I'll…I'll KILL you. Well, you know what I mean." Hayley, realising the irony of her words, rolled her eyes at herself and Will's obvious amusement. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

For a little while the three chatted and then Hayley, realising the ten minutes was nearly over, stood up.

"I'll give you guys an alone moment," she said. "Don't pash for too long though. Remember it IS a hospital. What?" She queried, as Will gave her a look.

"I was just wondering, sis," he drawled. "Where's the nail varnish, the lippies, you know, all the stuff you usually chuck at me when you're in a strop? You off to fetch an extra large bag?" He grinned although the effort of the long speech had left him breathless.

Hayley only shook her head. "Don't push your luck, bro. Being an invalid won't protect you. You'll need to keep him in his place, Gyps."

"Oh, I intend to, Hayles." Gypsy tossed back her striking red hair and winked conspiratorially and, like Nick had been earlier, Will was speechless.

"You know, this is going to sound dumb…" Hayley hesitated, as they stood in the corridor outside Will's room, having swapped places with Nick and Brooke. "But I was wondering if the real reason we hated one another was…if it was because…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Because we're too alike?" Gypsy finished for her, grinning. "Both big drama queens who love the limelight? I was thinking the exact same thing, Hayles. Maybe Brooke's right. Maybe we _do_ have a telescope connection. Though I just dunno where we're gonna find time to go up on the roof and do all that stargazing!"

Hayley laughed, both at and Brooke's confusion with words and Gypsy's easy acceptance of her suggestion.

"What jerks we've been, Gyps."

"Idiots," Gypsy sighed.

"Miss Piranha!" Hayley suddenly saw the funny side of the nickname Gypsy had given her.

"Pollyanna!" Gypsy too chuckled at the nickname Hayley had christened her. "Were we for real?"

"We were fools."

Gypsy nodded agreement. "Saddos."

"Losers."

"Brats."

"Dorks."

"Schmucks."

"Friends?"

"Forever!"

"I know it sounds crazy, Mac, but when we were on the island, when I thought I heard someone calling your name…I wonder if he was saying goodbye?"

The gang sat on the steps of Summer Bay High, where the sun was warm and the breeze gentle. Spring made promises and summer's kisses had begun to filter slowly into the air. It was a day for memories and quiet reflection. Jack's birthday.

Their first without him.

Nobody could have suspected that Jack had a heart condition. Nobody could ever have dreamed that someone so full of life could be snatched from them so cruelly. One minute Jack, Gypsy, Noah, Kit and Megan had all been fooling around down by the long abandoned River Restaurant. Then, noticing flames licking around Hartwell Mansion, Noah and Jack raced to help. Halfway there, Jack keeled over.

He was dead even before Noah reached him.

The medical authorities diagnosed a heart attack. Cardiac dysrhythmia. Sudden Death Syndrome. All that anyone at Summer Bay High knew was that they had lost a friend.

Kane turned to check on Martha. She sat a step above him her elbows resting on her knees, cupping her chin in her hands. It was still hard for her to speak of Jack without tears but with each day that passed it had gotten a little easier. She'd never been religious but she reckoned there had to be something more. It got her through the dark days. That and her friends. Kane had been a rock.

Martha had persuaded him to confide in Irene and Barry about his appalling home life. They were horrified to learn his mother was in long-term psychiatric care, his violent father in jail and his older brother dealing drugs from the filthy hovel where he slept. Irene had moved out of the Diner to live with her husband Barry, and Alf Stewart, who planned a round-the-world trip with his lady friend and had hired a new manager to run the business, suggested he needed a night-time caretaker who could live rent-free in her vacated apartment. If Irene and Barry could vouch for Kane, that was. They could and they did.

Kane was studying hard these days, determined to repay everyone's trust in him, hoping to get into TAFE, the first step on the road to his ambition of becoming a sea captain. Martha herself planned to go to Uni. Teaching was what she'd always wanted to do, ever since she was a little girl. For a little while, the dream had been abandoned, swallowed up in illusions of fitting in with the so-called Beautiful People. It seemed strange to think that, back then, so many girls at Summer Bay High had been Hayley hangers-on, keen to aspire to being nothing more than empty-headed social butterflies. But since the night of Hayley's party and Jack's death things had changed for them all. Martha wanted to help and influence people, she said. As Jack had, just by being himself.

"Heaps of weird stuff happened that night," she answered thoughtfully, smiling at Kane to let him know she was okay. "Megs, you saw the White Lady. Did that mean anything?"

Megan Ashcroft stood nearby with her Italian boyfriend Toni Lombardi. She was leaving with him at the end of the week to spend a gap year in Italy. Their bags were all packed.

"The White Lady! Wow!" Kirsty, Dani Sutherland's younger sister, looked impressed. "She foretells death, don't she? Did she tell you it'd be Jack? Ow! What was that for?" She frowned as her twin sister Jade elbowed her.

"Lucas!" Jade looked contrite. "Sorry, Luc. I didn't think. That's my trouble. I never do."

"No. I don't mind. It's okay, Jade. I like to talk of Jack no matter what. Makes me feel closer to him," Lucas, Jack's younger brother and Jade's boyfriend, said easily. "_Does_ the ghost of Lady Eleanor Hartwell foretell death, Megan? And _did_ she foretell Jack's? I've often wondered."

"The old superstition, that she foretold death, was no more than that. A superstition," Megan replied. "Borne, like many superstitions, out of hearsay and fear. The White Lady has gone forever."

"How do you know?" Dani asked curiously.

She and Davey Molyneaux were a serious item nowadays. And that was something no one ever thought would happen. But Rhys Sutherland was slowly learning to overcome his prejudices. It was no use pretending. The only reason he'd thought Davey not good enough for his daughter was because Davey was black. But a lot of people had taken a good hard look at themselves since the night of Hayley's party. Discovered that certain things didn't matter as much as they once thought they did.

"Lady Eleanor Hartwell, the White Lady, was a lost, lonely soul looking for friendship. Once she found that friendship she could move on. I can't answer how I know these things but somehow inside my heart I know."

Megan smiled her slow smile as she spoke. Her grandmother, from whom she had inherited the gift of second sight, had warned her some things were not for telling. She was glad she had heeded that advice. Only she recalled the psychic vision she had experienced down by the abandoned restaurant because she had told no one else.

_A picture flashed suddenly and with startling clarity into Megan's mind as an overwhelming sadness enveloped her in its arms. A dark, moonless night, a black river, a weeping bride. The bride turns and lifts her veil _

_The face is Gypsy's._

She could so easily have given Gypsy the wrong message, that she would lose the one she loved most. Yet Megan had felt something wasn't quite right and, as her grandmother had always advised, she'd listened to her instincts. Only later did it all make sense. The White Lady foretold the death of no one. She related to Gypsy and her loneliness because Gypsy had been wearing the wedding dress costume and Eleanor had never been more lonely than when she was a bride. When the bond of friendship returned to Hartwell Mansion through Hayley and Gypsy, Lady Eleanor was free once more.

It would do no good now to tell Gypsy of her premonition. Like all of the Summer Bay High students, she had been devastated by Jack's death. Like everyone else, she was still trying to find ways to cope.

The religious among them had been to church to light candles or offered prayers to their gods. A few, believers and non-believers, had taken part in a quiet little ceremony down by the river near Whitelady Woods. All would attend the special assembly for Jack that would be conducted by Principal Barry Hyde this afternoon.

Megan turned to Kane. "Since time immemorial, there have been those that say the dead return to comfort the bereaved. My feeling is, yes, Jack _did_ say a last farewell. But we cannot know for certain if messages such as these are from the dead or from our dreams."

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Kim quoted. He noticed his father Barry and stepmother Irene standing at the top of the steps and grinned. "Hamlet."

Principal Barry Hyde smiled back, a little sadly. Now that there was no pressure on him to pass exams, Kim found he actually enjoyed learning. The old Barry had only ever valued academia. He imagined, like himself, his son would be able to shield himself from what he regarded as a cold, harsh world with facts and figures, with mathematical formulae and logic. But since Irene Roberts had come into his life he knew more than that. He knew Kim was right to choose to work for a pittance, caring for the animals he loved, rather than gain qualifications for a career that paid well but that he would hate every moment of. That love and friendship were more important than material goods.

"School rules dictate I must ask everyone to return inside now for the Assembly and to continue with studies," he announced. "Jack will always be remembered. We never forget those we loved."

A tremor crept into his voice as he thought too of his late wife and tragically killed infant son. He felt Irene's fold around his own.

"Memories stay with us though life moves on," she said gently.

"Always." Megan shook back her long, frizzy hair and gazed towards the distant tree tops of Whitelady Woods at something only she saw. "Though Jack is gone his legacy lives on. There is nothing but happiness here at Summer Bay High."

Her smile was like sunlight, her haunting eyes, one brown, one green, wise as time. She whispered something in Italian to Toni, who spoke little English and had followed some of the conversations with difficulty.

"Yeh, well, can I just say somethin'?"

Kane Phillips rose, dusting himself down. He looked round at the sea of faces. Noah and Kit. Will and Gypsy. Cassie and Kim. Jade and Lucas. Megan and Toni. Davey and Danni. Nick and Brooke. Not everyone was in a couple of course. Pretty Kirsty Sutherland was never short of boyfriends but it was all quite innocent. She told everyone she was way too young to settle down. Truth was, Rhys Sutherland had stopped behaving like a strict Victorian father and it wasn't half as much fun being a rebel if there was nothing to rebel against.

Hayley, flanked at either side right now by her friends Cassie and Gypsy, dated occasionally but was adamant she didn't want a serious relationship just yet. She wouldn't string anyone along like she used to, she said, it wasn't fair. And, strangely, the new genuine Hayley was even more attractive to the guys than the shallow old one.

Most of their friends thought at first that Kane and Martha must be together. It took a while to convince some that there really was no romantic liaison. They were close, they told people, but it would always be a brother/sister friendship.

"Though it ain't deep or nothin'," he apologized in advance. "Just…well, I figure what we most liked about Jack was that he accepted people just as they were. That's what made him such a great guy. He was just…a great mate."

He looked surprised when a thunder of applause met his short speech, not just from the listening group but from other nearby students.

Martha laughed at his stunned expression.

"You do very well yourself, buddy," she said as, one by one, students began winding their way back into the school.

"Wait up, Nick! Something must've caught on my shoe down by the river."

Brooke leaned on him and, hopping on one foot, tried unsuccessfully to retrieve a square white piece of cardboard stuck to her muddied heel. She had been granted an extension to stay in Australia and was attending drama school now, with Nick. But they had permission today to attend the afternoon assembly.

Gypsy stretched across and tugged.

"Got it! Advertising junk," she said, to quell Brooke's curiosity, and glancing at the card far too quickly, Hayley knew, to have read anything. "I'll throw it in the garbo for you. I've a chockie wrapper to chuck in anyway. Won't be a sec, babe!" She kissed Will's cheek lightly and ran down the steps, ripping up the item as she did so.

Hayley's shadow fell across her as she finished discarding its tiny white flakes into the litter bin. Gypsy looked up and gave a small shrug.

"But I already know what it was, Gyps," Hayley said quietly. "I saw the gold lettering. It was one of my old party invitations. Thanks. For not telling Brooke. For not reminding anyone what a terrible snob I used to be."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Gypsy smiled, slipping her arm into Hayley's as they walked back towards Summer Bay High. "To pick up the pieces when we're broken."

**THE END **

_You never knew my god, _

_never saw the colour of my skin_

_When you opened up your heart _

_and let me walk right in_

_You help me pick up the pieces _

_of a broken heart_

_When it shatters and scatters _

_like slithers of glass to the floor_

_Friends hold me together _

_in life's crazy jigsaw_

Jigsaw (by I love music)


End file.
